Become a Ghost
by HardlyFatal
Summary: Orihime dies. Arrancar? No, appendicitis. Between the weekly pub crawls with the lieutenants, Women's Association meetings, and- oh yeah, seeing patients- Orihime builds a new life in Soul Society. But on the horizon, something looms... and she will have to sacrifice herself, yet again, to save those she loves.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** **Hello, everyone! This is the prologue to my new story. As always in future!fic, the characters and relationships are a little more mature and/or have evolved since where we are currently in canon, so if you don't understand why I've presented something as I have, please ask! I'll happily answer in the author notes.**

**The story title is a line from the song "Your Surrender" by Neon Trees. The lyrics in general feel very close to what the main characters are going through as they fumble their way out of their old, futile, unrequited loves and into something new and frightening.**

**Finally: though the initial premise of Orihime dying and living with the Kuchikis is shared by my previous story, Undisclosed Desires, that's all they have in common. This one is less intended to be humorous, has a lot more introspection and drama and plot, and is more from Orihime's POV than Byakuya's (though we will hear from him sometimes).**

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Prologue**

When a Hollow killed Keigo, Rukia was forcibly made aware of how all of her friends in the real world would eventually reach that moment decreed by Fate, and die.

The solution, as much as such a quandary could be solved, came to her one evening while she ate dinner with Byakuya. Dinners were always spent in silent communion with one's meal, as were lunches and breakfasts, so Rukia's faint gasp of realization was noticeable in the peaceful room.

Byakuys looked up from his meal and glanced at her inquiringly. But Rukia felt ashamed that it had taken her so long to realize that living people had a much shorter existence than the dead, and shook her head, a tiny smile on her wan face.

One by one, each of her beloved comrades would fall, be it to violence or illness or simply old age. The knowledge set a burning ache to start in her chest, until she came to the understanding that though they might die, they would be travelling to Soul Society and thus they could be together once more. They would never be entirely lost to each other.

Except...

"Nii-sama," she began, and set her chopsticks on the exquisite laquered holder beside her plate while waiting for his acknowledgement.

"Rukia," he replied. His own chopsticks were placed with care on his own holder, and then the entirety of his attention was on her.

"Nii-sama, is there any way for a soul to retain its memories after konshou?" She tried so hard to make her face blank, to match his eternal calmness, but distress made the muscles beneath the skin rebel. Without permission, her eyes widened, and her jaw set hard.

Byakuya studied her for a long moment before getting to his feet with his usual graceful economy of motion and leaving the room. Rukia waited, because his plate was still half-full (or was that half-empty?) and it was odd even for Byakuya to leave without a single word. After an hour, however, it became clear to her that he would not be returning to finish his meal. In fact, she did not see him again for the rest of the evening.

But in the morning, resting atop the neatly-folded pile of her shinigami uniform when she awoke, was a scroll tied with a silk ribbon.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far, I'm so happy people are interested in this story! I'd write it even if I were the only one reading it (I reread my own stories all the time, is that weird? Am I the only one?) but it's way more fun knowing others are enjoying it as well! I hope you like this chapter :)**

**I have a play list of songs I think are especially fitting for this story and these characters, if there's any interest I'd be happy to include it in a future author's note. Just let me know! **

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 1**

"I really don't feel well enough to go, Tatsuki-chan," protested Orihime for the third time, pulling back on her arm, which was at the moment firmly in the inexorable grasp of her best friend and being yanked in the direction of Sado's humble apartment.

"You say that every time," replied Tatsuki intractably. "You haven't attended a movie night in months." One Friday night every month, one member of their group of friends would host a munchies-and-movies night on a rotating basis

"I do not say it every time!" Orihime felt wounded at what she considered to be a slanderous statement. "Usually I say I'm too busy. Which I am," she amended, lest Tatsuki think she was making that up, too. "Medical students are kept very busy, you know!"

"You cannot possibly be so busy that you can't spare one evening a month to meet up with your closest friends, with whom you have literally risked death, several of whom you have also literally brought back from the dead." Tatsuki's mouth was an uncompromising line as she towed Orihime up the stairs. "Everyone is worried about you." She knocked on Sado's door, on the other side of which could be heard voices and music.

That instantly flooded Orihime with intense guilt, as Tatsuki had known it would. "Oh, how awful of me. I didn't realize! Were they sobbing? Were they wringing their hands?"

Tatsuki had no time to answer; the door opened to reveal Ishida Uryuu, at whom Orihime flung herself in remorse. "I'm so sorry! It'll never happen again, I promise! Don't do that to your poor hands!"

Uryuu, well used to such outbursts from his friend, patted her soothingly on the back, giving Tatsuki a glance of inquiry.

"She's afraid you've been wringing your hands from worry because she hasn't attended a movie night since March," the other girl explained with a grin as she removed her coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

"Ah," was all Uryuu said, but he extracted Orihime's face from his shirt and guided her toward Sado's disreputable sofa. "We weren't quite to the hand-wringing stage yet, Orihime-san, but we were wondering if we'd done something to keep you away."

Orihime gasped and looked quickly up at him; he was smiling, which meant he was joking. She sighed in relief. "No, never, Uryuu-kun! I just have been very, very busy with medical school! It's my last year, so there are labs and grand rounds and exams and internships and-"

"I know, I know," he interrupted gently. "Just next time, if you can't come, call one of us so we know not to expect you, all right?"

She sniffled. "I will," she said in a small voice, then brightened as she sniffed the air around them. "Ooh, has Sado-kun made his nachos again?"

"Un," said that worthy gentleman as he exited the kitchen with a gigantic, steaming-hot platter.

Orihime mounded a paper plate with chips slathered in meat, cheese, and guacamole (Sado's specialty) and slouched back into the shabby depths of his ancient sofa. Around her, her old friends from high school bustled in various levels of noise (Chizuro being the loudest, Sado of course the most silent) as they helped themselves to nachos and drinks.

Uryuu was helping Sado distribute the food, and Mizuiro was busily texting one of his legion of girlfriends in between sips of cola. Across the coffee table, Tatsuki and Chizuru were arguing over what movie to watch. Chizuru was loudly proclaiming the excellence of one 'Bring It On', specifically mentioning the many well-toned young actresses in cheerleading outfits featured in the film. Tatsuki was advocating for any movie except 'Bring It On'.

Orihime had done her level best to miss most of them for the past five years. It wasn't that Orihime didn't want to see her friends. Truth be told, the longer she went without spending time with them, the more she missed them.

It was just that in the year since she'd sworn off any feelings other than the platonic for Kurosaki Ichigo, she found it easier to simply avoid being in the same general vicinity as he. If she couldn't see him, or hear his voice, her poor neglected heart didn't get all stirred up and begin to ache with wishful thinking. It hurt too much, and made her act weird around him, which made him uncomfortable, which made everyone else uncomfortable.

Fortunately, he attended the munchies-and-movies nights even more rarely than Orihime did. His law school studies (as well as his continued substitute shinigami participation) kept him insanely busy. Orihime counted on this to keep from having to pass more than "Hi, how's it going?" with him. So far, her luck had been quite good with this.

A heavily-laden nacho halfway to her mouth, Orihime felt a familiar reiatsu approaching Sado's apartment, and realized with dismay that her luck had finally run out.

She jammed the nacho into her mouth and looked around for something to keep her busy while Ichigo burst into the room with his usual one-two punch of spiritual power and force of personality. The coffee table held a promising array of music-based periodicals; Orihime snatched up the latest _Rolling Stone_ and, pulling her knees up to her chin and hiding her face behind the magazine, tried to immerse herself in a list of The Best Singers Of All Time! (Otis Redding was #8? Fascinating!)

She'd just stuffed another nacho into her mouth when a long finger pushed down the magazine a few inches. Orihime knew that finger. Her heart sank a little more.

"Hey, Inoue," said Ichigo, the same little smile on his lips as always when he addressed her.

"Hey, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime mumbled around her mouthful of nacho. There he was, as bright and shining as always, and the neglected bit of charcoal in her chest gave a sad little thump. The muscles of her face struggled to maintain composure, and she nudged the magazine from under Ichigo's finger to bring it between them again.

_Go away, go away,_ she chanted in her head, willing him to go talk to Uryuu or Mizuiro. A sick feeling, a sense of longing and frustration, was rising in her belly like usual. If he didn't go away, she didn't know what she'd do. She might cry, or jump up and start shouting, or fall to her knees and beg him to love her. The longing turned to self-loathing, for her weakness and clinginess. She wished she could reject this stupid, pointless love; she wished she could reject _herself_.

But he just stood there in front of her. Orihime knew he wore that brow-creasing frown of confusion, that he was trying to figure her out. _**Please**__ go away_, she begged silently, bringing the magazine so close to shield her face that it brushed her nose.

"For god's sake, Kurosaki," said Uryuu, sounding disgusted, "can't you see Orihime-san is trying to read? Stop hovering over her like a dark cloud."

_Uryuu to the rescue!_ He never said a word about it, but she knew those sharp eyes of his missed nothing, not the least of all being her ridiculous, persistent feelings for 'that orange chucklehead', as he called Ichigo. She peeked over the top of the magazine and found Uryuu looking at her. She sent him a big-eyed gaze of gratitude, which he returned with an eye-roll of his own, which made her grin. Not for the first time, Orihime thanked her lucky stars for having him in her life.

"But we've already seen 'Bring It On' a million times before!" Tatsuki was protesting.

"You should talk, all you ever want to see is Jet Li movies!" Chizuru shot back, causing a fiery blush to cascade across Tatsuki's face. It was a poorly-kept secret on her part that she was crushing hard on the Chinese martial arts star.

"Chizuru wants 'Bring It On', Tatsuki wants Jet Li, Sado wants 'Pink Floyd's The Wall', Ichigo wants 'Much Ado About Nothing'," recounted Mizuiro with a little grin. "Uryuu wants a romantic comedy, Orihime wants either horror or sci-fi-"

"Aliens! Chainsaws! Aliens _with_ chainsaws!" Orihime interjected with a weak fist-pump, trying half-heartedly to make up for being anti-social.

"-and I want an erotic thriller," he finished with a smirk. "We never agree on anything except-"

Sado lifted a DVD case from the top of the TV and opened it, then popped its contents into the player. An underwater scene began playing.

''- 'Finding Nemo'," they all intoned at once, sighing.

"I always cry when Coral and the eggs are eaten," said Orihime.

"_We know_," said everyone else. Sado handed her a tissue in preparation for said scene of pathos.

So Coral and the eggs got eaten, and Orihime duly sniffled into her hankie. The sick feeling in her middle from before, from when Ichigo had arrived, hadn't entirely left, and in fact seemed to be worsening as time passed. Orihime put her half-uneaten plate of nachos down and poured herself a glass of ginger ale, hoping it would settle her stomach, but by the time the credits were rolling she felt worse than ever.

"I'm pretty tired from all my exams," she lied, standing and reaching for her jacket. If she told them the truth about feeling unwell, Tatsuki or Ichigo- or even Tatsuki _and_ Ichigo- would insist on accompanying her home, and she just wanted to sink into bed and maybe moan a little.

They both tried to bully her into letting them walk her home anyway, but Orihime was adamant. Ichigo's presence was unbearable, and Tatsuki would just lecture her on the need to move on from him (as if she didn't already know).

"See you all next month!" Orihime said cheerily, beaming as bright a smile as she could manage around the room before scampering out the door.

It was only a little past 10 o'clock; the night sky above was clear and calm and should have gone far in helping Orihime feel better, but before she was halfway home the ache in her belly had become a searing pain that had her gasping. This was no mere case of indigestion; she was blazing-hot and shaking with chills at the same time. Perhaps she should go to the hospital instead of home. She turned and headed north, hands clasping her belly as she paged through her mental files for what could be happening to her.

The sallow flickering lights of the supermarket, as she approached, were making spots dance in her vision. There was no way she'd make it on foot to the hospital. Orihime began fumbling for her cell phone, meaning to call 119 for an ambulence, but her hands weren't working properly and the phone fell from her clumsy fingers to smash on the asphalt.

Pain lanced through her, strong enough to send her to her knees. Her vision was fading to grey, but just before she crashed face-first to the ground, she saw someone approaching, blurring flashes of blue and white. She barely heard a shout over the roaring in her ears, and footsteps pounding toward her, and then everything just... went away.

* * *

"Call it," said a man.

A sigh, then a woman replied, "11:02pm."

Orihime opened her eyes to find herself flat on her back, a bright light glaring down into her retinas while the group of people- doctors and nurses, she recognized by their blue scrubs- ranged around her started to drift away. The woman began to do something by Orihime's face, finally pulling away with an intubation set. It was obvious she'd just removed it from her patient's mouth, but Orihime had felt nothing.

Their words echoed in her head, and she quickly sat up. There was a strange sensation, as if she were pulling free of a sticky residue, and Orihime whipped her head around to see that, though she was sitting up, her body was still laying flat behind her. She turned to face front again, and the motion set something on her chest to swaying and clinking. Eyes down, she saw with horror a chain, about a foot long, suspended from a square plate affixed between her breasts.

She swung her legs over the side of the gurney. The legs of her body remained just where they were, stretched out flat. Gasping- for what? did she still need to breathe?- Orihime jumped off the gurney but her knees felt rubbery, unable to hold her up, and she fell right through a doctor, then hit the wall, leaning heavily against it for support.

"So sad, to die from a ruptured appendix," commented a nurse with a shake of the head. "She was graduating in two weeks."

Oh, god. _Oh, god._ She was dead, really dead. This wasn't like ten years ago, when her soul had left her body but stayed alive with her chain intact. Her chain was severed. This was permanent. She was _dead_.

Orihime started gasping again, and her head went woozy as she slid down the wall to plop in a tangle of legs. _No, no, no!_ It was the only word her brain could form. She didn't have time for this! She had things to do! Food to eat! Museums and zoos and aquariums to visit! _People to heal._

When Orihime had declared pre-med as her major in college, Tatsuki had made her promise that she would treat all her injuries, and when she had a baby, Orihime had to be the one to deliver it! Now who would deliver Tatsuki's babies? A stranger? Some unknown person with uncaring hands, tending to Tatsuki during that precious, delicate time? A deep mourning for what now would never be ripped through Orihime, and she _howled_.

"Are you becoming a Hollow so soon? Will I have to purify you myself?" The chilly contempt could only belong to one person. Orihime looked back over her shoulder to see Ishida Ryuuken standing in the doorway of the now-empty examination room, one eyebrow raised in his usual supercilious manner.

She dashed the tears from her cheeks and clumsily hauled herself from the floor. The doctors and nurses had left the room at the arrival of the hospital director, and it was just Ryuuken, Orihime, and Orihime's body. It looked more and more tragic every time she looked at it, limp and frail and white. She'd worked so hard to keep it strong and healthy, and now it was worthless.

"Not quite yet, Ishida-sensei," she managed croak, and grasped the end of the chain. "I was just, uh, upset."

"I assume you have some unfinished business?" He ran an expert eye over her chain, gauging its length. "You look to have another two days before Hollowification."

"I know." _Not enough time._ But then nothing short of eternity would ever be enough time, not for those she loved so dearly. "Would you do me a favor?" The white eyebrow quirked again. Orihime took that as conditional assent. "Could you prevent them from calling my next-of-kin? I want to tell them myself. It'll... it'll go easier on them if I do it personally."

Ishida-sensei nodded once, and strode from the room. Orihime followed at a slower pace, darting one last glance at her poor defunct physical body. At the front desk, he was telling the nurse not to bother with notifications for Inoue.

"I'll do them myself, as a friend of the family," he said.

"Ishida-sensei, I didn't know you and Inoue-san were that close," said the nurse, her eyes a little starry at conversing with the handsome (if frosty) hospital director.

"She would have made a fine doctor. This is a sad day," he replied, gaze locked with Orihime's. She blinked in surprise at the compliment, then bowed to him in thanks. His nod was barely perceptible, but definitely there.

He turned from the nurse and murmured to Orihime, "If you go Hollow, I'll take you down, myself."

She had to smile, just a little. "I'd expect no less, sensei."

Then she squared her shoulders and went to tell her friends that she was dead.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: OMG, I can't believe the formatting did that! I should have checked after I posted that it came up alright. Sorry about that! Pheecat, I can't believe you stuck with it through that massive wall of text!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! This chapter is sad, too, but don't worry! Things cheer up soon. Please let me know what you think, I appreciate your feedback :)**

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 2**

Orihime wandered the streets the rest of the night. She saw various other plus spirits, even waved at them before continuing on her way. She visited the sewing store where she and Uryuu liked to get their supplies, the parks where they'd had so many battles, the high school that had been the sole common link between all of them.

She wondered if, when Sora-nii-chan had died, she'd gone away to live with her aunt instead of staying in Karakura. How would her life had differed? She'd never have come to love Ichigo, never developed her spiritual powers, never met Rukia or the other shinigami, never been kidnapped by Ulquiorra... so many amazing and frightening and wonderful things, and she'd have done none of them.

Was that... wistfulness that Orihime felt? Did she wish that had been the case, that she'd remained a normal person (well, as normal as Orihime was bound to get) instead of the girl who could raise people from the dead? But then, without her, so many people would have not been healed, or restored to life... shame at such a selfish thought filled Orihime, and she trudged on through the night.

A crackling split the air, and with a roar that made the shop windows tremble, a Hollow thrust itself through the barrier between Hueco Mundo and the living world. It looked like a praying mantis, with big buggy eyes that rolled wetly as it scoped out the vicinity for tasty souls to devour.

Orihime, with the ease of long practice and expertise, thought, _Koten Zanshun_, and Tsubaki streaked forward to effortlessly split the hapless Hollow in two. It dissolved into the night just in time for straw sandals and black hakama to appear in Orihime's down-tilted vision.

"Ah, Nakai-san, hello," she greeted the shinigami assigned to Karakura Town that month.

"Hardly any need for me here, between you and the others killing all the Holllows for me," he joked, smiling until he noticed her life-challenged state. "What happened, Inoue-san?"

"Appendicitis," she admitted.

"And you a doctor!" Nakai exclaimed. "I am sorry." His hand went to the hilt of his zanpakuto, the seal on the end of the hilt already glowing in preparation of konshou.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to go yet, Nakai-san." She was able to summon a watery smile. "Don't worry about me, I'll get there in time!" She even managed a fist-pump, though it was lacking its usual energy.

He nodded. "I'll check back with you in-" he too assessed her chain "- two days. Please be ready by then." He leapt away into the overcast night.

The sky was lightening; it was almost morning. Saturday mornings were busy for Tatsuki at the dojo, and she was sure to be there early. Orihime couldn't put off telling her best friend for too much longer, but first, maybe another turn around town...

When the sun was fully risen and shining warmly over Karakura, Orihime forced her feet toward the dojo. Since buying it from her former instructor, Tatsuki's business degree had held her in good stead, and the dojo was enjoying success. The down side, however, was that it kept her there almost 24 hours a day. She even slept on the couch in the office, though she mentioned about once a week that she needed to get her own apartment.

Tatsuki was indeed in the second-story office, a wad of papers clenched in her fist and a pencil behind her ear as she peered far-sightedly at her computer monitor.

"Tatsuki-chan, I need to talk to you," Orihime said from the doorway.

"Sure, Orihime, just give me a-" Tatsuki's swift glance up from the monitor froze, then slowly returned. She wasn't as spiritually aware as her friends, but she knew that Orihime appearing before her with a chain dangling from her chest was _not good_. "What- Orihime, what-"

"I'm dead!" Orihime tried to make it cheerful, grinning witlessly and rubbing the back of her head. "Stupid me, last night wasn't indigestion, it was appendicitis!" She knocked herself on the forehead a few times. "Oops."

Tatsuki darted from behind the desk to stand in front of her friend. Her eyes were huge and horrified. "Orihime, no. No!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry!" But she couldn't maintain the facade for long, and her grin faded as tears began to choke her. "I'm sorry." Tatsuki grabbed her, hugged her hard. "I'm really sorry, Tatsuki-chan."

This time, it was not Orihime who howled. Tatsuki threw back her head and wailed, tears running down her cheeks. Orihime cried right along with her, until they were both exhausted and shaking.

"We have to tell the others," Orihime said at last. She felt as limp as an old dishrag. Dying itself, in such pain, had been bad enough, but this emotional stuff was even worse, if that were possible. "They need to know."

Tatsuki nodded, looking a bit limp herself. "Give me a second. I'll send out an email to all the students and instructors, saying the dojo will be closed until further notice."

"Oh, but I don't want to cost you so much money!" Orihime protested, waving her hands.

Tatsuki just levelled a flat, unhappy glare at her. "Seriously? Orihime, some things are more important. I can afford to take a few days off because you _died_."

Orihime hung her head. "I guess I just don't want anything to change. I want you happily running your dojo, not upset and worrying about me."

"Too late for that." Tatsuki typed rapidly for a minute, sniffling wetly the while, then rose from her chair.

They walked through the incongruously cheerful morning, Orihime silent, Tatsuki using her cell phone to call everyone and request a meeting at Orihime's apartment. As soon as they arrived, Orihime went to the kitchen to make tea and Tatsuki expended some frustrated energy by rearranging the furniture so there was enough seating for everyone.

As she filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, Orihime took the opportunity to look around her little kitchen. It wasn't much- a med student earned basically nothing, so it was all ancient fixtures and appliances of dubious pedigree- but it was _hers_.

How many times had she cooked something delicious for herself here? Or something less delicious, but which Tatsuki would actually eat, for her friend? This was the same place she'd lived in all through high school and college, during all the fighting and war. Rangiku-chan and Toushirou-kun had lived here with her, the three of them jammed in together like puppies in a pile, and she had _loved _it, had loved that feeling of family and belonging.

And soon it was going to be someone else's home, because Orihime was dead and she could not come back and there was no way out of it. She clenched her fingers around the edge of the sink, head low, and fought to suppress yet another bout of tears.

A knock on the door, and then their friends were crowding in, noisy and chattering at once, like usual. Chad's bass rumble, Uryuu's lighter tenor, and between them- _just right_, she'd always thought- was Ichigo's baritone. Mizuiro and Chizuru had come as well.

"Where's my Hime-chan?" demanded Chizuru, and soon they were all baying for her to come out. It made her smile just a little, and she used the hem of her shirt to blot her face before squaring her shoulders and stepping into the other room.

* * *

Their smiles of greeting faded almost immediately, when they noticed they could see the kitchen door _through _Orihime, except for Chizuru, who couldn't sense spirits at all.

"What's going on?" she demanded loudly, grabbing and shaking Mizuiro's arm. "Why is everyone so scared of the kitchen door?" She thought a second. "Hey, did the kitchen door just open and close by itself?"

Tatsuki slumped onto her corner of the sofa, but everyone else leapt to their feet.

"Inoue," Ichigo breathed. He was just as tall and handsome as ever, and just as unreachable. There was some sort of barricade around Ichigo's heart, and Orihime had driven herself to distraction in trying to find a way past it. She'd tried finding a key, jumping over, and even blasting through its walls, but the barricade seemed impenetrable. And now she was dead, and would have no more time to try to breach it.

"What happened?" Ichigo ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up even more wildly. "Was it a Hollow? Where the _hell _is that new shinigami, I'll-"

Uryuu stared, looking positively thunder-struck. "I knew you weren't just tired last night," he said. "I thought it was-" He cut himself off, darting a glance at Ichigo before turning back to Orihime. "But you were sick."

Chad reached out and pulled her into his massive arms as tears rolled down his cheeks. Mizuiro dragged Chizuru aside and whispered an explanation to her.

"What? Dead? My precious Orihime?" the girl shouted, looking wildly around.

"Kurosaki-kun," Orihime interrupted gently, prying herself from Chad's grasp and wringing her hands, "it was my appendix. It ruptured." She met his burning gaze, saw in it his desperation to have been able to fix it. "There's nothing anyone could have done."

Another tense silence, marred only by the faint chime of Orihime's chain as it swung from her chest.

"What will you do now?" asked Uryuu. He stepped closer and placed a hand, light as a bird's feather, on her arm.

"I'll get a _konshou _and go to Soul Society." She stared down at where she was twisting her fingers together. "I just wanted to let everyone know myself. And... and say goodbye," she finished in a rush, her throat no longer working as the tears came again.

Uryuu's arm came around her this time, with Chad pressing up close to her other side. After getting a translation from Mizuiro, Chizuru stumbled across the room, trying to find them. Chad took her hand and guided it to Orihime's shoulder, and for the first time, the girl didn't try to cop a feel, instead simply holding on to the invisible person in front of her and weeping. Tatsuki stood and made her way over as well, not touching Orihime, just staring.

But Orihime had eyes for no one but Ichigo. His warm brown eyes were burning with misery and regret. "Kurosaki-kun, will you perform the soul burial on me?"

He reared back as if she'd struck him. "Inoue..."

"Please, Kurosaki-kun. It's the only thing you're able to give me."

The others averted their eyes, aware they were in the middle of something that should have been private. Ichigo looked confused, but everyone else knew exactly what Orihime meant. Ten years of loving him, fighting by his side, and he remained as stubbornly oblivious as ever.

The apartment door banged open, then, to reveal Rukia. She was panting, chest heaving from what appeared to have been a mighty exertion.

"That was fast," murmured Uryuu, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Nakai is Sixth Division," she said. "When Orihime refused to let him perform the soul burial, he contacted Nii-sama, who told me." The others drew back as she approached Orihime. "I'm glad you remembered to wait for me!"

Truth to tell, Orihime had recalled no such thing. She had just wanted to say goodbye and have Ichigo be the one to do her _konshou_. But now that it was mentioned, she did remember Rukia saying something about waiting for her if any of them ever died. "Er..."

"You didn't remember!" Rukia shrieked. "Orihime! That was _important_!"

"Don't yell at her!" Ichigo roared back. "She just fucking _died_, Rukia!"

That sobered her, and she turned to Orihime with a bow of apology. "I'm sorry, Orihime-chan. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, it's fine," Orihime said, having to make an effort to keep an edge from her voice. Abruptly, she felt exhausted, and wanted the whole thing done with. She understood that everyone was very upset on her behalf, because they loved her, and she felt so lucky and, and _rich _to have so many wonderful friends. At the same time, it was _her _death. _She _was the one who had died, and she wasn't feeling inclined to play referee between them because they couldn't prevent themselves from kicking up a fuss.

"Why was I supposed to wait for you?" she asked Rukia.

"So I can seal your memories to your soul, so you don't forget everything," Rukia replied quickly. "And then, I'll teach you how to send a message with a hell butterfly, so when you arrive in Soul Society, I can find you right away."

It sounded like a great idea; it sounded perfect. Why, then, was Orihime feeling like maybe, possibly, she didn't want to do it? The idea of starting over fresh, without the heavy baggage of this lifetime, was... actually pretty tempting. She closed her eyes, and thought about it for a moment.

No recollections of her abusive father and negligent mother; none of poor Sora and the guilt that still lingered after so much time. Ah, _guilt_, her constant companion for the past dozen years. No more guilt over being the weakest of their group of fighters, no more guilt about Hueco Mundo.

And no more loving someone who was never, ever going to love her back.

Once, Orihime thought she wanted to love Ichigo for five lifetimes. Somewhere along the way, she realized that she had already loved him five lifetimes' worth, and it hadn't made a lick of difference. And she had begun to resent him, for his thick-headedness and obstinance and sheer obliviousness, and to hate herself for being unable to withdraw from this hateful, hurtful, pointless, _useless _love.

She'd tried avoiding him, but their friends had all asked why. _Ichigo _had asked why, and what could she tell him? That she loved him so much that she hated him? That the sight of him was so joyful and so painful that it made her want to live and die and swim and drown and fly and crash, all at the same time?

So Orihime kept quiet about it, and put on a cheerful face, and buried herself in her studies. If she had to study all night instead of going out with the group, that was just normal for a med student, right?

No more faking it, now. No more cheerful face or excuses needed. Orihime was dead, and she didn't have to see any of them ever again. She didn't have to think about the ugly painful parts of her life, or her brain or heart, anymore. Relief felt like a trickle of cool water down her back on a hot day.

"Orihime-chan?" Rukia's tiny hand was cool on her wrist. Orihime opened her eyes to find everyone staring at her. Rukia must have seen something worrying in her eyes, because she got a look of resolve on her face before turning to the others.

"I need to talk to Orihime. Everyone out." She began herding them out the door, ignoring their protests, using her foot for greater force in shoving the increasingly-belligerent Ichigo into the hallway.

"Even me?" asked Tatsuki, coming forward, looking concerned.

"Even you," Rukia said, her voice gentler than with the others. "Come back later, she'll still be here. I promise."

Once Tatsuki was gone, Rukia turned to Orihime, hands on hips, very determined. "Now, then," she began, before shooting an irate glance over her shoulder. "I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING AT THE DOOR! FUCK OFF, ICHIGO!"

"BITCH!" he snarled back, and then his footsteps stomped off down the hall to the stairs.

Rukia concentrated a moment more before being satisfied that they were finally alone. "Now, then," she repeated, guiding Orihime to sit on her own sofa. "Besides being dead, of course, what's wrong?"

Orihime took a deep breath. "Of course, you're so kind and nice and generous for taking the time and effort to come here to seal my memories to my soul. But, but, but, I'm thinking possibly I, uh, maybe don'twanttoremember." She spit out the last few words in a rush, afraid that if she didn't say them fast, she wouldn't say them at all.

Instead of the disappointment or shock that Orihime expected, Rukia only smiled sadly, and took one of Orihime's hands in her own. "I understand," she said, and Orihime thought maybe she really did. Her own life hadn't been that great, either. "This is a decision you have to make for yourself, and I won't push you in one direction or the other. But please try to remember that for every bad thing you'd be forgetting, there is at least one- maybe more- good thing you'd also be losing."

Orihime thought about that for a while. She could do away with her bad memories of her parents, her guilt about Sora and Hueco Mundo, and her fruitless love for Ichigo... but she'd also lose Tatsuki, and red bean paste, and sewing with Uryuu, and Chad's beautiful Spanish guitar music, and how many people she'd healed and saved with her Shun Shun Rikka. She'd lose knowing she had fought the good fight, risked her life and survived being a part of a war that had literally saved the world.

And she'd leave behind an entire group of people who would be devastated because they no longer meant anything to her.

Orihime knew in that moment that she couldn't do it. She still somewhat wanted to, but she just couldn't do that to them. It wasn't just the people themselves, but the relationships she'd built with them, and the memories that went along with them. They were precious, and losing her memories of them felt like she would be throwing them away, discarding them like the trash Ulquiorra claimed they were.

So she lifted tear-drenched eyes to Rukia, and said, "I'll do it." Life was all about sacrifices.

It seemed like death was, too.

* * *

That evening, everyone assembled in Orihime's apartment once more.

"So now you know how to summon a hell butterfly. The _kidou _I will perform now will save your memory at the precise moment it takes effect. Once you wake up in Soul Society, you won't remember anything that happens after it's complete." Rukia said before they arrived. She smiled gently. "So make sure you do absolutely everything before I begin it, you don't want to forget anything important."

Orihime nodded, and went to open the door to her friends for the last time. They bustled in, a somber group laden with packages.

Mizuiro gave her a lovely brush-and-comb set for her hair; Chizuro, half a dozen satin brassieres that had Ichigo shouting even as he slowly turned a mottled purple.

"But I don't know if they have proper support garments in Heaven!" Chizuro protested tearfully, for once seeming genuine and not lecherous. Orihime thanked them both graciously.

"For Orihime-san, so she doesn't get bored without any hobby materials," Uryuu said as he handed his parcel to her with one hand, the other pushing up his glasses. His gift was a beautiful sewing kit in the form of a multi-tiered lacquered box. It contained scissors, needles of every size and purpose, measuring tape, beeswax rounds to slick embroidery floss, and an entire rainbow of brilliant silk thread on slim wooden spools.

It was so perfectly Uryuu- thoughtful, useful, beautiful- that Orihime hugged him until he gasped for breath. Still, he smiled to see how happy she was to receive it.

Chad needed to unwrap his gift himself; he shucked his jacket, then rolled up his right sleeve to reveal the new tattoo on his shoulder: a blue six-pointed flower in the exact shape of Orihime's hairpins. Curving over the top of the flower was the name "Orihime" in cursive Romanji, and yesterday's date- the day she died- curving below it. She hugged him too, and this time she was the one gasping, as his strong arms curled around her.

Tatsuki handed her a gigantic photo album filled with pictures from all their years as friends. "I had them reprinted onto acid-free archive paper, so they won't get yellow or decay for decades. Maybe longer." Orihime didn't trust herself to look through them, knowing the photos would make her sob hysterically.

"Tatsuki-chan," she whispered, and reached out to her friend. Tatsuki grabbed her, and they rocked back and in forth in each other's arms for long moments, the room silent but for the sound of sniffling. Chizuru, Rukia, and Chad were crying quietly, Mizuiro and Ichigo were staring fiercely in opposite corners, and Uryuu was simply watching them, sorrow softening his sharp blue eyes.

When the girls released each other, they turned automatically to Ichigo, the only one left who hadn't presented anything yet. His eyes were burning again. Orihime wondered, not for the first time, or even the thousandth, what he was thinking when his eyes blazed like that.

"I don't have anything good enough to give you," he rasped, digging in his pocket. "This is the only thing I can think of that comes close." He stuck out his hand, palm up; in it lay his substitute shinigami badge, the item he had used to focus his Fullbring and eventually regain his shinigami powers.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime breathed. "Your badge! But it's so important to you!" Her hands came up, and she backed away a step.

His customary glower deepened, then relaxed. "Then you'll have to take it, to keep it safe for me." He even managed the smallest of smiles.

Orihime felt faint, just for a moment. This could have been a moment of true progress for him, for _them_. And it came about because she was _dead_, and there would be no chance for her to work with it. Honestly, her life was so ridiculous, it was almost like a comedy show.

She kind of liked that idea: "The Inoue Orihime Comedy-Mecha-Ninja Hour" definitely had appeal. She took the badge from Ichigo's hand, and laughed.

Time for final goodbyes, then. Orihime's smile soon faded as each of them came forward for one last hug, and a few last words. She allowed Chizuru one last grope. She kissed the boys full on the lips, even finding the courage to plant a good long one on Ichigo, to his immense shock.

"I'm ready," she told Rukia. "Let's do it now, so my last memory is of me happy."

It took under a minute; Rukia chanted, there was a flash of violet light and a little _ping! _in the recesses of Orihime's brain, and it was done.

Orihime took the badge Ichigo had just given her, and gently pressed it to his chest. His vacant body fell back to the floor, and his soul stood before her in its _shihakushou_, Zangetsu poking up over his shoulder.

He plucked it from his back and reversed his grip on it so the hilt was held forward, the konsou seal already starting to glow. To her shock, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss between her eyes, just where he would lay the seal. "Goodbye, Inoue."

Orihime managed a smile for him, reaching up to touch his cheek with her fingertips as he brought the hilt to her brow. "Goodbye... Ichigo."

And then she faded away.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: And heeeeeeere's everyone's favorite frosty bishie. Thanks to everyone for your reviews :) **

** Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 3**

Orihime awoke lying flat on her back, staring up at a blue sky with fluffy white clouds skidding across it. She sat up and realized she was in the middle of a dirt road. The buildings to either side were old-fashioned and plain, but not in too bad a condition. She wondered where the heck she was.

Then she wondered _who _the heck she was.

And then, with a click she could almost hear, her memories dropped back into her mind like flower petals drifting down, down, down.

For a moment, the sheer _weight _of them pressed her down, threatened to crush her beneath them. Orihime took deep breaths until the sense of oppression eased, and got to her feet. She bent over to bat at her clothing, to brush the dust off, and lying on the ground at her feet, saw-

"A zanpakutou?" The hilt-wrapping was the same blue of her hairpins, and the guard was a six-pointed flower in their shape as well. She picked it up and felt a hum buzz through it into her hand. There was a sensation of warmth, and a feeling of rightness. This sword was meant to be in her hand; it had been created solely for her use. Well, at least she knew where her future lay: clearly, a career as a shinigami was ahead of her, if she wished.

_Did _she wish? Orihime gazed around at her dreary environment and thought, _I don't _**have **_to send a hell butterfly to Rukia. I don't _have _to let anyone know where I am. I might not be able to forget, but... maybe I can start new, anyway._

She liked the idea so much that she decided to consider it seriously, at least for a while, and began to explore her surroundings.

Upon turning a corner, she found herself in what must have been a main thoroughfare. After wandering down it for a few minutes, she made her way toward an old woman running a vegetable stall.

"Excuse me, where am I?" she asked with a polite bow. "Which district?"

"Ah, just got here?" the woman commented, gifting Orihime with a toothless grin. "You're in East Rukongai, district 41."

"Thank you!" Another bow, and Orihime was on her way once more. District 41 wasn't too _too _far from Seireitei, was it? She could take her time and walk there and enjoy her last lingering moments of anonymity before contacting Rukia. She shaded her eyes and peered into the distance, trying to figure out which way was west.

Orihime was beginning to see that her plan was not as straightforward as she'd hoped- after walking for a very long time, it was now long past dark, she was starving, her feet hurt, and she'd only just left District 41 and entered 40. On top of those problems, she'd noticed an increasing number of men following her, their expressions best described as "predatory". Orihime was used to men looking at her with appreciation, but this had a more feral edge to it that made her nervous.

She'd been busy, as she walked. She'd tried calling on her fairies but none had appeared. She had a zanpakuto now, instead of the hairpins, so perhaps they didn't exist any more? Or existed solely in the zanpakuto's private world that Ichigo and Rukia, even Renji, had mentioned... Orihime supposed she'd have to meditate, once she found a peaceful spot, to see about that.

She'd also given some thought to her idea about not contacting Rukia. There didn't seem much point to it- these Rukongai districts were immense; it would take her months to work her way to Seireitei, and in the meanwhile, how would she live? If she weren't going to settle down, she couldn't establish a way to make a living, earn money for food and lodging for herself.

And, gods help her, she was lucky enough to have 'contacts on the inside'. Retaining her memories as she did, she wasn't forced like the rest of these poor souls to eke out an existence because of lack of alternative. Orihime had choices. It seemed, well, _stupid _not to avail herself of them. She uttered the incantation Rukia had taught her, and a hell butterfly appeared, its wings dark velvet against the surrounding night.

"Hi, Rukia-chan, it's Orihime! I'm on the main street at the border of Districts 40 and 41 of East Rukongai." After recording it, she had to give an address, so the butterfly knew where to go. So many hours after her death, she didn't know where Rukia might be just then. It seemed safest to send it to her home, so she said, "The Kuchiki Estate, Seireitei-"

"Oy, everyone, she knows someone on an _estate_, she does," mocked one of the men who'd been following her for the past hour.

She'd been so occupied with the butterfly, she'd forgotten to pay attention to her surroundings. _Stupid_. Then she noticed that being interrupted had made the butterfly disappear. Had it had enough information to be sent? Drat.

"Excuse me," she told the men politely, and began to walk away briskly, hoping her businesslike stride would dissuade them from pursuing her.

She hadn't gotten a block before their steps were pattering behind her once again, closing in fast. She thought, _Santen Kesshun, _and felt rather than heard the familiar hum as her shield sprang into place. She spared a moment to expand its size until it stretched from one side of the road to the other, completely cutting off traffic, and then broke into a run. It wouldn't take long until they got over their surprise and simply went around the buildings on either side of her barrier.

As she ran, she reformed the shield every time she passed another set of buildings, always keeping progress down the main street blocked with her shield. Footsteps to either side, however, told her that at least two of the men were quite speedy and able to keep up with her by taking unblocked side streets. Eyes darting to her surroundings, Orihime saw that one of the closer buildings had a small covered porch, and she dashed for it, forming her shield across the open front of it just as the men reached her.

As Orihime caught her breath, the rest of the men caught up to where she had barricaded herself. They poked fingers at the glowing gold shield, and when they saw that touching it didn't hurt, began to push and then beat on it.

"So cold," one of them jeered. "And here was us wanting to give you a warm welcome to the afterlife."

"I can maintain my shield for hours," she told them. "Maybe days. Do you really want to bother trying to get through?"

"C'mon, honey, we just want to have a good time," another of them said, grinning and leering as he pounded on the shield.

"Good for who?" she shot back. "Don't you have anything better to do than try to rape strange women?" If Orihime had that kind of spare time on her hands, she'd pick up another hobby or work on achieving inner calm or something.

Orihime heard some thumps from within the house, behind her, and realized they were trying to get to her from inside it. _Ugh_. Persistent little buggers.

"I didn't want to have to do this, but you gave me no choice," she told them sadly, and formed _Shiten Koushun _on the outside of the other shield, then reformed _Santen Kesshun _behind her just as the door opened at her back. The chatty fellow in front of her struck out again, expecting nothing different-

-but it was a different shield, this time, and he was forcefully thrown back to land on the far side of the street.

The other men stopped assaulting her shields to gape, then scrambled back to avoid coming into contact with them.

"You can't stay in there forever, bitch," one of them hissed. "We can wait."

"Enough." A deep voice rumbled the word down into the street from above.

Orihime reared back, peering into the shadows clustering around the rooftops. Across the street, at the very peak of a roof, stood Kuchiki Byakuya. As she watched, with a strong sense of surreality to have him come to her rescue (as it were), he stepped off the roof and drifted, as lightly as a _sakura _blossom, to the dirt road below. Orihime thought it looked very dramatic and wondered if he'd planned it like that. It was certainly an exciting way to make an entrance.

His gaze was fixed on her. "You should have just killed them when they first gave chase, instead of wasting your time with shields."

Her attackers, for their parts, were staring in horror as they began to understand their newly-grave situation. A shinigami had arrived; no, not a mere shinigami. A _captain_. Their lives were forfeit, and they knew it.

"Ahaha," said Orihime. "You know I don't like to kill if I can help it, Byakuya-sama."

Byakuya slid a dismissive glance over the cowering bunch. "It would be a mercy to such as these." He didn't move a muscle, but Orihime could feel his reiatsu burgeon, spiking until the men choked and dropped, falling unconscious in the face of such immense power.

Once they were all down, Orihime dropped her shields, fore and aft. She wished she could tidy herself up without seeming obvious about it. After her long walk, then more recently her panicked run for freedom, she was sweaty and dusty. Next to his impeccable person, she felt even sweatier and dustier. "Thank you for helping me! Can I ask what you are doing here?"

"I received a butterfly with your direction," he replied. "I presume you meant to send it to my sister; however, it was delivered to me."

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said. In spite of having known him for ten years, it was hard to know how to behave near Byakuya. Rukia worshipped him, Ichigo was his usual irreverent self, and Renji's opinion seemed poised on a dagger's edge between admiration and terror. It didn't help that Byakuya was the least emotive person she'd ever met.

His facial expressions ran the gamut from A to C: there was his default bored look, where he appeared 30 seconds from falling asleep; there was his semi-alert 'I'm paying attention but couldn't care less' look; and there was his mildly surprised 'Hm. Wasn't expecting that' look. Right now, he was sporting the semi-alert face, and Orihime knew it was associated with a very limited amount of patience, which she in no way wished to tax.

"Please excuse my mistake," she said politely with another bow. "I apologize for disturbing your evening."

"Hn." His chin tilted down so it was no longer aimed so pointedly at the sky, which Orihime took as an indication that he wasn't looking down on her _quite _as much. "You will come with me to await Rukia." It was not a question or a suggestion.

He held a long, pale hand out to her, in which she assumed she was to place her own hand, which she did, after a brief hesitation. The moment she had, the world blurred around her, and they were moving.

They would come to a stop on the occasional roof between one flash-step and the next, but it all went so fast, without the comfort of oblivion. In spite of the slight sensation of queasiness it made her feel, Orihime was quite accustomed to travelling under the force of another person's shunpou, and quite enjoyed it- the landscape flying by, the wind in her face.

She gripped his hand tighter and took comfort in its strength, in the solid feel of the bones beneath the skin. They paused on another roof, then, with a pause that was a tiny bit jarring, not flawlessly smooth like the others. Byakuya shot a questioning glance down at their interlaced fingers. She just smiled at him.

"This is fun. I'm almost sorry we're almost there."

Somewhere along the way, Byakuya had acquired a fourth expression, because he was giving her a face with slightly frowning brows but the barest hint of smirking lips- like he was wondering silently about her sanity and finding it not only lacking, but amusing. She decided to call it "Face D", and hoped she'd see it more often, because it made him a lot less daunting and more approachable.

Then they shot into motion again, even faster than before, so quick it almost stole the breath from her lungs. They had begun taking steeper trajectories up and dives down, and though the Kuchiki estate was in the south of Seireitei, she could have sworn that they were heading northeast, because that was definitely Eighth Division they were flying overhead right then- even in the dark, Kyouraku-taichou's pink haori on one of the rooftops was like a beacon.

She realized, in an instant, that Byakuya was taking her for the shinigami's version of a joy ride, and joyous it was, too- exactly what she needed after her death. Throwing back her head, grinning into the wind, she gave herself up to the exilaration, to the wind and the night and the stars, to death and rebirth, and whatever fate might have in store for her from this point forward.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, though she had no idea if he could hear her or not. "Thank you, Byakuya-sama."

She felt their angle change into a swift descent and flawlessly gentle landing, and opened her eyes to see they were standing at the edge of a wide, covered veranda. With a blink, she looked around and saw they were in the familiar surroundings of the Kuchiki estate. In the middle of the absolutely massive compound, the pond rippled serenely before them, orange-gold koi of considerable size glinting in its depths. In the distance, Orihime could hear the rushing of the river that bisected the grounds.

A servant emerged from where he'd apparently been lurking in wait for a moment exactly such as this, and Byakuya murmured some instructions to him. The servant scurried away after an obsequious bow, and Byakuya pushed the _shoji _screens to open wide the entire exterior wall of a room. Inside was sparsely decorated, with a long low table around which six plump silk-covered seating cushions, zabutons, were placed. He entered and seated himself at the end of the table; with a gesture, he indicated that Orhime was to sit as well.

"Rukia went in search of you," he informed her. Orihime felt guilty for worrying Rukia. Was there censure in Kuchiki-taichou's voice? He sounded as flat and neutral as ever. "She will return soon." He watched her for a long, silent moment, his slate-gray eyes never leaving her face as a servant entered and arranged a tea service before them. "Why did you not contact her as arranged?"

Orihime opened her mouth, fully intending to spout something about forgetting how to perform the kidou to summon and use a hell butterfly, but he added, "I will have the truth, if you please."

_Well_. Feeling resigned and rather put-upon, Orihime sagged a little. Might as well tell him the truth; he already didn't like her much, so what did it matter? "I didn't want to remember my life in the first place."

"Then why did you? You had only to refuse to allow Rukia to attach your memories." He sipped from his tea cup, sounding as politely interested as would a matron at a society affair with a mere acquaintance which, Orihime supposed, was all that they were to each other. Mere acquaintances.

"I couldn't. I felt... obligated to remember. For my friends. I owed it to them, for all they've done for me, to remember them. It would hurt them too much, knowing I didn't remember them, knowing that I would be out there somewhere and they were strangers to me." And oh, how she still resented them for it, when rebirth and oblivion had awaited her.

"So, from a sense of duty." At her nod, his eyelids drifted closed.

Empathy: that was unexpected. Encouraged, Orihime forged on. "So, when I got here, and remembered everything, I wanted... I don't know, I wanted some time before I had to be myself again."

"I understand," he commented, and there was something in his voice that told her he knew exactly what she meant. She recalled that not only was he a captain, but the head of an extensive noble house, with all the myriad important responsibilities that entailed. She wondered if he ever got any opportunity to get away and pretend, as she had done for such precious few hours.

"I feel a lot better after that trip back here, so it all seems so pointless and petty, now," Orihime admitted. "I'm so much luckier than most people- I get to remember and continue to have my wonderful friends from when I was alive- who else can say that?"

Byakuya opened his mouth, ostensibly to reply.

"No one else, that's who!" she answered before he could speak. In her excitement, she was leaning forward onto the table, her prodigious bosom resting lightly on its surface. His gaze flicked down to it for the merest second before he schooled it up once more, an automatic reaction to two forces of nature.

In truth, he wasn't thinking about her boobs, or her body at all- he had just arrived at the realization that Inoue Orihime was a kindred spirit. Byakuya was a very intelligent man and could see right through her perky act- in spite of her animation and declaration of fortunate circumstances- that she was still quite traumatized by her death, by the end of all her plans, and by having to retain her memories for the sake of her friends instead of embracing the sweet oblivion she craved. That cheerful façade was just that, a shell masking her true emotions.

Byakuya knew precisely what that was like. He'd spent the past 125 years doing the same exact thing, only his shell was a deadpan, stoic exterior concealing the fiery conflagration that raged inside him. He didn't think he'd ever conquer the passion of his true nature; 125 years, and there were still days when he felt like unleashing all that fire, and let the pieces fall where they may.

Then he'd recall his familial duty, and all the promises he'd made. There was one thing that bound him more strongly than the frustration and wildness in his soul, and that was his sense of responsibility. As long as he had a duty to head the Kuchiki clan, and be a Gotei captain, and generally be an emotionless automaton as was required by the noble ideal of protocol and dignity, he would rein in his impulses and present a bland face to the world.

Someone had to; it wasn't as if his sister would, nor would he want her to. He rather liked her exuberance (not that he'd ever reveal that to her). He also liked Orihime's general mien of kind and chipper friendliness, for that matter. It was like a middle finger upthrust in the face of all the clan elders who continued, at his age, to warn him of the dangers of random and untamed emoting.

As if in punctuation of this concept, in the distance came a thud, and the patter of rapid footsteps on tatami.

"Rukia is home," he murmured into his teacup just as the _fusuma _door was tossed to the side and Rukia appeared, wild-eyed. Seeing her brother in residence, she immediate schooled her features and stance into something more becoming her station, and entered the room with a layer of calm spread over her agitation.

"Nii-sama," she said respectfully, before dropping to her knees before Orihime and yanking the other girl into her arms. "I was so worried." Grasping her arms, she thrust Orihime away to run a critical eye over her before hugging her fiercely once more. "But you're safe? You're safe."

"I'm fine," Orihime gasped, laughing and hugging her back. "I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you weren't too worried."

"I _was _worried, and you'll have to make it up to me," countered Rukia with a grin.

"Byakuya-sama was kind enough to fetch me when I sent the butterfly," Orihime explained with a bow toward him. He nodded back and continued to drink his tea while watching them. Rukia added her own bow of thanks. He nodded serenly in return.

"Nii-sama, I request that Inoue-san be permitted to stay here as our guest-" Rukia began.

"I have already had a room prepared," he said, looking bored. This time of night, where else would she go? Besides, though he suspected she was somewhat unhinged, she was not an unpleasant person. In the decade of his acquaintance with her, she'd proven herself a steadfast and kind friend to Rukia, as well as a trustworthy person in general. He had no objections to her residing in his home for a duration.

Rukia appeared thunderstruck; then her expression melted into one of grateful adoration. "Of course Nii-sama would think of that. Thank you!"

Orihime bowed in gratitude. "Yes, thank you very much, Byakuya-sama!"

A servant slip open the fusuma door. "The bath you ordered for your guest is ready, Kuchiki-sama."

Orihime stood. "Oh, I can't wait," she said in heartfelt tones. "Thank you again." She stood quickly, and fairly ran from the room.

The servant led her down the hall, around a corner, and down another hall. "The bathroom is here," she gestured to one door, then to another across the hall. "And your room is here. Rukia-sama's is just besides yours. If you need anything, please call."

The bathroom was a spacious, wood-panelled affair with large _furo _tub in the center, steam rising in lazy spirals from the hot water's surface. A clean _yukata _was folded neatly on a nearby bench beside a pile of towels. Orihime stripped faster than she ever had in her life, scrubbing and rinsing until she was pink, and then sank down into the water with a sigh. She was asleep almost immediately, only waking when Rukia pounded on the door.

"Did you die in there? Come out, already!"

Orihime departed from the wonderful _furo _with great reluctance, promising to return to it soon, and pulled the yukata over her refreshed body before bundling her dirty clothes up and leaving the bathroom. Rukia pulled her into her new bedroom, which instead of being empty as Orihime had expected, contained a lot of bags and sacks and one or two boxes.

"Tatsuki-san and Ichigo insisted on sending along all your clothes and, well, anything remotely portable." She scowled as she plopped down on the tatami floor. "I had a time carrying it all here, let me tell you. Those idiots. I had to make Renji help me."

"Thank you so much, Rukia-chan," Orihime began, kneeling beside her. Her vision blurred as the tears started. "For everything. It's far too much, what I've asked you to do-"

Rukia hugged her. "You didn't _ask _me to do any of it. And it's my pleasure. We're friends, Orihime-chan. You'd do the same for me." She nodded toward where Orihime's sword had been leant against the wall. "A zanpakuto already, eh? No real surprise there."

"It makes it feel more real, having one for myself at last," Orihime admitted. "I'm really dead. I'm in Soul Society not on a visit, but forever, because I'm _dead_." She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to eradicate the tears. "How is everyone?"

Rukia picked at a loose thread in her _hakama_. "I won't lie to you; they're miserable. Ichigo somehow thinks it's his fault, the moron. I swear, all the fighting has given him brain damage." She scowled at the mere _idea _of the young man. "They're human, they've been told all their lives that death is the end, no matter what they know of Soul Society now. When they finally come to believe that you're not gone forever, and they'll see you again, they'll feel better."

She hopped easily to her feet. "You should get to sleep, now. It's been a long and difficult day for you, I'm sure you're tired. Let me put out your bed for you."

Ignoring Orihime's protests, Rukia went to the cupboard that stretched across one wall and extracted the futon stored within, tossing it to the ground so it unfolded into a sleeping mattress. Sheets and blankets, with one or two expert flicks, were put into place; a pillow was plumped and deposited at one end. It was done.

"If you're up early enough, you can have breakfast with Nii-sama and I, but don't worry if you're not. Get up when you feel like it, and ask for breakfast when you like."

A brisk kiss on the cheek, and Rukia was gone. Orihime dug into the bags around her until she found a pair of pajamas, then pulled them on. For the first time, she experienced the oddness of feeling real world matter against her spirit matter body; the cloth of the pajamas felt strange, almost like they were vibrating against her skin. Or maybe it was her skin vibrating against the stillness of the cloth. Whatever it was, it was not entirely comfortable, and Orihime removed them, putting the yukata back on before climbing into bed.

Despite being a futon on the floor, it was divinely comfortable- no less for any guest of the Kuchikis, of course. The sheets were cotton, but as smooth and supple as the finest silk; the quilt was perfection itself, neither too light nor too heavy. Orihime made herself two promises: one, to find out how exactly the quilt was made with such precise balance, and two, to obtain one for Uryuu. Now, there was a man who could appreciate the finer points of quilting.

It was while in the midst of these warm thoughts of Uryuu's general excellence that Orihime, exhausted, passed out.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks to everyone for your kind reviews! Please keep them coming, they help me know I'm doing a good job and not letting anyone get OOC. This chapter is a little weird, I hope you enjoy it and find it funny :)

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 4**

The next day, Orihime woke after noon and felt pretty good, all things considered. Rukia and Byakuya had already long departed for their respective divisions, and Orihime was alone, if by 'alone' one meant in a huge mansion with a dozen distant Kuchiki relatives in their own private wings, and several dozen servants.

She flagged down one of those servants and asked for instructions on how to procure some lunch (having missed breakfast by hours), even suggesting she'd make it herself. The servant's expression of horror, and fervent protests that she would bring lunch to Orihime, was such that Orihime quickly backed down and simply asked for directions to the room where she was supposed to eat the lunch. It seemed an awful lot of fuss just for a little rice and an omelette.

Once in the dining room, she parted the shoji screens to open the space to the outdoors and sat down to lunch. The chopsticks hadn't quite made it to her mouth when a small pinkish blur skidded to a stop beside her.

"Yachiru-chan?"

"Hi, Jiggles!" Yachiro exclaimed. "Shorty told Scribbles who told Pachinko-head who told me that you died and were staying here." Orihime interpreted that to mean "Rukia told Renji who told Ikkaku..."

"Ah, yes!" Orihime replied. "I'm sorry, I was going to come see you soon. I'm happy you came to visit me here!"

"Oh, I didn't come to see you," Yachiru said cheerfully. "I wanted to ride my scooter in the hallways." She pointed to the object dumped on its side, one handlebar blithely digging up the exquisitely tended sod of the garden. "And maybe see Byakushi, if he's here."

"I'm surprised Byakuya-sama lets you do that." She knew Byakuya would permit no such thing.

"He doesn't," said Yachiru, still cheerfully. "That's why I do it when he's away." She put a finger to her chin and looked to the ceiling, considering. "Though sometimes he comes home early and finds me here. That's when he throws candy out the window so I can jump up and chase it!"

Orihime bit her lip, struggling not to laugh. Poor Byakuya. Then she noticed that Yachiru was eyeing her in an almost-unfriendly manner and sobered.

"Jiggles, I just thought of something," Yachiru said with a frown, concentrating hard. "Are you living here because you're gonna marry Byakushi? Cuz I'm gonna tell you right now, he's mine."

Orihime's eyes flew wide. "Er. No. I'm staying here because I'm friends with Rukia-chan, and it's only for a little while. Once I figure out what I'm doing with my future, I'll probably move out."

Yachiru scrutinized her for a moment longer, and then her expression lightened into its one of usual mischief. "Okay, then! Hey, you want to ride my scooter with me?"

"I wish I could! But I'm having lunch right now." Orihime thought it actually sounded a little fun, though.

"Tch," was Yachiru's reply, sounding very much like Kenpachi himself when he was irritated. "I guess you're not going to let me ride my scooter in the hallways, either?"

"I'm sorry, no." Orihime aimed for the right balance of regret and authority and seemed to have gotten it right, because Yachiru just heaved a woebegone sigh.

"No one lets me have fun," she complained.

"No one ever?" Orihime teased, tickling her until she giggled. "I think it's just the opposite. I think Byakuya-sama is the only one who doesn't let you have fun."

Yachiru looked at her like she was crazy. "He gives me candy and meat buns all the time, before I even have to ask. He doesn't talk much, just like Ken-chan, which is good cuz it annoys me when men yap a lot. Yun-yun sometimes talks so much I wanna cry. Yun-yun sometimes talks so much he makes Ken-chan want to cry, though if you tell anyone that I'll have to beat you up. But Bya-kun doesn't talk too much, plus he gives me candy, plus he's pretty. He's perfect."

Well. By the logic of a sugar-addicted seven-year-old, Orihime had to admit that Byakuya was looking rather good.

"You're right, Yachiru-chan. It sounds like a match made in heaven." She had no doubt that Byakuya would probably want to cry were he to know that he was Yachiru's 'perfect' man. She felt an almost overpowering impulse to tell him just to see the expression on his face. But since the amusement she'd feel would soon fade in the wake of the words "Chire, Senbonzakura" and then she would die- again- she resigned herself to having a private memory to giggle over to herself in spare moments.

It took a substantial number of sweets, brought by a servant from one of Byakuya's stashes around the manor for exactly that purpose, to get Yachiru to leave. Once she had, Orihime had wanted to explore the house and grounds a bit, but she'd hardly finished her interrupted lunch when the gong at the front gate sounded.

"You have a visitor," a servant informed her. "She identifies herself as Matsumoto Rangiku-fukutaichou-"

"Orihiiiiiiiiiiiiime-chaaaaaaaaan!" that woman shrieked as she shouldered her way past the servant to fling herself into Orihime's arms.

Orihime was no less thrilled to see Rangiku, and together they bounced up and down in delight for a full minute.

"I'm so glad you're here! But I'm so sorry you died! But I'm so glad you're here!" Rangiku exclaimed. "Rukia stopped by on the way to her division to let me know. I wanted to come hours ago, but Taichou's so mean, he wouldn't let me go until now!"

Orihime noticed the servant standing by silently, and realized the woman was waiting for instructions. "Rangiku-chan, do you want tea?"

"Ooh, tea in the Kuchiki manor! Don't mind if I do!" said Rangiku, plunking herself down on a silk zabuton and leaning back on her hands to survey her surroundings. "Pretty posh in here, eh, Orihime-chan?"

Orihime nodded to the servant, who whisked herself away in search of the needed tea, and seated herself. "I'm kind of scared of breaking something," she admitted with a grin. "I try not to touch anything."

"What's it like to live with ol' Kuchiki-taichou-sama-dono? Gorgeous creature, but Hyourinmaru only wishes he could be that frosty."

"Actually, he's been nice," Orihime said, and flopped forward to lay on her belly, propping her chin on her hands. "It's... unnerving."

"I'll say," said Rangiku, eyes wide. She stacked zabutons until she could comfortably sprawl on her side over them. "What does 'nice' look like on him?"

Orihime had to think about that. "He hasn't said anything mean. In fact, I think we actually had a conversation last night. I'm taking it as a victory."

"You had a conversation? With Kuchiki-taichou?" Rangiku was incredulous.

"Well, it was a very small one. Maybe only two or three sentences each. But it had a definite beginning, middle, and end, so I'm counting it." Orihime pursed her lips in thought. "He seems more... relaxed here at home. Maybe we've only seen him be difficult before because those were stressful moments... fighting, warfare, et cetera. Not exactly times where you want someone laughing it up."

Both women paused to consider the idea of Byakuya 'laughing it up'. It boggled the mind.

"Renji-kun has said before that, when things are calm and peaceful at the Sixth Division, Kuchiki-taichou isn't bad; sometimes he even cracks jokes, which apparently aren't very funny," said Rangiku after a moment. "But that's Renji-kun saying that, and I have reason to believe his sense of humor isn't what it could be, either."

They snorted in amusement at Renji's expense. Over at the Sixth, Renji sneezed twice in quick succession.

"But enough about them," Rangiku continued. The tea arrived then, and they took a moment to fill and take their cups before getting comfy again. "How did you die? More importantly, how do you still remember who you are? And what are your plans, now that you're here?"

"My appendix burst," recounted Orihime with a grimace. "No time to do anything about it. I remember because Rukia came and did a kidou that bound my memories to my soul beyond konsou." She slurped at her tea. "As for plans... I have no idea. My zanpakuto has manifested already, so I guess I'll join the Gotei."

"Eeeee, you should join the Tenth!" squealed Rangiku, bosom bouncing in glee. "You know my taichou would let you join in a heartbeat, he loooooves you!"

Orihime doubted that Hitsugaya Toushirou 'loved' her, though she was sure he was reasonably fond of her, as she was of him. "I don't know, with my abilities and medical training, don't you think the Fourth would be a better fit?"

"Tch." Rangiku waved that idea away with a languid pass of her hand. "Bo-ring. All you'll get to do is sweep streets and shovel sewers. I say you milk this sweet deal-" she waved her hand again, this time to indicate the Kuchiki manor "-as long as you can, and only get a job when there's no alternative."

"I'm not very good at sitting still, Rangiku-chan," Orihime protested. "And knowing I could be helping people feel better, but I'm loafing around all day instead- that would make me feel very guilty. I think I was given these powers for a reason. Not to use them feels... wasteful."

"Wise words, young lady," rumbled an aged voice from the garden beyond the walls. Both woman turned to find an old man, gray-haired and wrinkled but with the upright carriage that screamed 'nobility', standing at the edge of the veranda. "I am Kuchiki Ginrei. May I join you for tea?"

Both women got to their feet and bowed to him. "Of course, Kuchiki-sama," Orihime said, and hurried to pour him a cup. "It's your house!"

Ginrei seated himself on a zabuton with slow dignity. "Not anymore," he said, and accepted the tea. "That ownership has now fallen to my grandson."

"Ah, you're that Ginrei!" exclaimed Rangiku, with a moment of clarity. "The former captain of the Sixth, before the current Kuchiki-taichou!" Then she blushed at the rude informality of her speech before this respected veteran of the Gotei squads.

"I have that honor, yes," he confirmed. "I believe one of you is a guest in our home. Since you wear the shihakusho," he nodded to Rangiku, indicating her own membership in a squad, "then I will assume you are she." This was finished with a second nod at Orihime.

"Yes. I'm so grateful to stay in such a beautiful home." She bowed to him in thanks, which he returned with an amused-seeming nod.

"In reference to one of your previous comments... yes, my grandson is far more personable when in a relaxed environment like his home, compared to a professional one."

The women blinked in surprise.

"You, uh, heard that?" Orihime asked weakly. Rangiku shot her a mischievous 'oh no!' glance across the table.

"Every word," said Ginrei, sipping his tea. "I have discovered, in my old age, the myriad joys of eavesdropping. The things I hear provide me hours of entertainment. I'm disappointed I didn't pick it up as a hobby decades ago." He held out his cup for more.

Orihime gave him a refill and tried to control the plummet of her stomach. Had she and Rangiku been hideously disrespectful? She desperately hoped not, it would be horrible if she offended Ginrei or Byakuya with a clumsy attempt at a joke...

"Rest assured, I won't tell him what I heard. None of it was insulting or untruthful, after all. I am given to understand that many women indeed find him a 'gorgeous creature', which I will take as a distinct compliment to myself; his demeanor is indeed chilly; and his sense of humor takes some getting used to before it can actually be understood as funny."

"I- I can see where he gets his looks, Ginrei-sama!" Orihime blathered into the silence that followed the elderly man's pronouncement. "He has your eyes. They're lovely!" Then she cringed at how silly she sounded; it was all true, but still. Gah.

Ginrei turned those very fine eyes to her. "Are you flirting with me, young lady?"

She went the color of a beet, and held up her hands, palms out, in demurral. "N- no, Ginrei-sama! Uh! Not that I wouldn't, because even at your age, you're a handsome man! Not that your age is so great that you're too old to-! But I wouldn't dare to presume-!" She darted a frantic glance at Rangiku, who was shaking against her cushions, helpless with laughter.

His lips turned up in a faint smile. "Young lady, be at ease. I was only teasing you. I know you weren't flirting with me. Teasing, too, is a new hobby I have acquired of late. Seeing your reaction, I wish I'd taken it up years ago, as well." He ran a practiced eye over Rangiku, who lay back against her heap of zabutons, trying to catch her breath. "And I do dearly love to make an attractive woman laugh."

Then he leaned toward Rangiku and added, "And that was me flirting with you, young lieutenant-san." Unable by her very nature to resist flirting back, Rangiku's eyelids lowered to half-mast as she gave him her patented seductive smile technique.

The two of them then commenced a ribald réparté that had Orihime's gaze bouncing back and forth between them like she was at a tennis match. Watching Byakuya's grandfather and Rangiku put the moves on each other was nothing short of horrifying (yet weirdly fascinating at the same time) and she felt torn between watching raptly and wanting to flee.

From her position closest to the door, she heard a servant greet Byakuya. Oh, for the love of Kami, thought Orihime in chagrin, and leapt to her feet. "I'll go ask for more tea, shall I?"

They had begun discussing swordwork and positioning- and oh, how Orihime hoped that was literal and not some tortured metaphor for sex- and paid her no attention whatsoever. Out in the hallway, she was dismayed to find Byakuya just about to enter the room, and she fetched up hard against him.

"I swear to you," she whispered miserably to his chin, not daring to meet his gaze, "I had nothing to do with this."

His sole reaction was to quirk a sleek black eyebrow before stepping past her to slide open the door and enter. With a resigned sigh, Orihime followed him in.

Rangiku and Ginrei were standing, but she was bent forward at the waist as he leant over her from behind, one hand around her waist and perilously close to her bosom; the other over her hand as it gripped the pommel of her drawn zanpakuto. Byakuya's gray eyes, every bit as lovely as his grandpapa's, were flat as he observed the scene.

"Ginrei-ojii-sama. I see you are in good spir today." Byakuya's tone was utterly neutral, conveying nothing to indicate his mood at this uncommon discovery. Orihime marveled at his control; had it been her to discover her aged grandpa doing odd things with a voluptuous woman in her sitting room, she'd have been torn between laughing and crying and probably given in to the urge to do both.

Also, had Byakuya intended his dry commentary to be that funny? Because Orihime felt a bubble of semi-hysterical laughter in the back of her throat and had to clench her teeth against giving in to it.

"Quite good, my boy," agreed Ginrei, straightening from his compromising position with Rangiku. "I was just giving fukutaicho-san, here, the benefit of my many years of experience to show her how to reach a fuller extension with her sword."

"Indeed." His gaze flicked to Rangiku, who was trying to tuck herself more discreetly into her overburdened kosode. "My grandfather has been enjoying the relaxation of his customary inhibitions, since retiring from the Gotei."

Orihme took that to mean that Ginrei-sama had been going daffy since leaving his captaincy. Heehee. She clenched harder.

"But it is growing late." Left unsaid were a myriad of things: it was almost time for dinner, Ginrei was sure to be getting tired, Byakuya wanted some peace after a long day's work, but they all added up to 'Rangiku needs to GTFO'.

She took the hint, and with bows of farewell to the Kuchiki men, got going. Orihime escorted her out. "Old boy still has plenty of life in him," Rangiku whispered in Orihime's ear as that girl blushed and pushed her out the door.

"I'll see you soon!" she promised, and shut the door in Rangiku's laughing face. Then she pressed her hands to her own face and slumped against the door.

What if Byakuya blamed her for Rangiku's shameful behavior with Ginrei? Orihime might as well start looking for somewhere else to live; she should shack up with Rangiku, in that woman's lieutenant's quarters at the Tenth. It would only serve Rangiku right. She knew better than to be indiscriminate with her come-hither looks; there wasn't a straight man alive who could resist them.

Orihime opened her eyes to find one of the servants standing before her, the same woman who had brought them tea earlier. Her face was sympathetic.

"Don't worry, young miss," the woman whispered. "Byakuya-sama is aware of his grandfather's ways. He is a kind man; he won't blame you for them."

Orihime stared. This was the first time any of the servants had spoken to her outside a bare minimum of sharing information; she'd thought perhaps they'd been instructed to have as little personality as possible. "Th- thank you!" she whispered back. "That makes me feel better!"

She hurried back to the sitting room to find that Ginrei had gone and only Byakuya remained. He faced the open shoji doors to the garden outside, and his shoulders were... shaking?

The servant was wrong, Orihime thought in dismay, he's furious.

"Byakuya-sama?" she began hesitantly, prepared to apologize like no one had ever apologized before. "I-"

He spun around, his hand over his mouth and his eyes wide. Orhime realized, distantly, that he was laughing. Or trying desperately not to. She barely had time to acknowledge this revelation before he flash-stepped from the room, leaving her confused. And amazed. But mostly confused.

Rukia came in, frowning. "Was that Nii-sama? Where did he go? I met Rangiku-san leaving as I came in the gate. She was laughing so hard she couldn't talk. What's happening?"

Orihime looked at her, then out the doors where Byakuya had escaped, then at Rukia again. And then she just couldn't clench any more, and the laughter spilled out, and out, and out.

Rukia could only watch as Orihime laughed and laughed.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Here's a bit of introspection by our girl and guy, and some interaction between them. Please let me know what you think!

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter ****5**

Within a week, they had fallen into a pattern. Rukia and Byakuya arose and breakfasted early before heading to their divisions; Orihime passed her days meditating with her Shun Shun Rikka or exploring the grounds of the Kuchiki estate or wandering to either the Tenth or Eleventh divisions to visit with Rangiku or Yachiru.

There was only so much chatting Orihime could take, however; while she loved the feeling of being part, even a tertiary part, of a family again, she'd also gotten very accustomed to living alone and having plenty of quiet time to herself. Also, the food at the Kuchiki manor, while exquisitely prepared, was also a bit bland. She worked hard at charming the servants until they allowed her into the kitchens to make herself a daily bento, which she'd bring with her for her perambulations around the estate and eat in peaceful silence while sitting by the river, or the pond, or deep in the heart of the tea garden.

There was a setting for every possible mood, she found. When she felt sluggish for clinging onto a futile and doomed love, in need of energy, she would pass her time by the river's edge, letting the rushing water invigorate her. When she felt unwilling to inflict her company on other humans but still wanted some- but not too much- interaction with other living beings, she would loiter at the pond and feed the koi. When tranquility was desired, to blot out all the general confusion in her head, she passed her time in the shade of the tea garden's lush trees and flowers.

And when she felt like flagellating herself for her stupid mistakes, she'd take herself to the rock garden. It was supposed to pare beauty down to its most basic and symbolic form, but the pale stones and boulders, with their precisely combed and raked patterns, felt bleak and sterile, empty and barren, just like Hueco Mundo when she'd made her most critical and catastrophic blunder ever.

Once the Kuchiki siblings were home from work, they would bath and change into civilian attire. Renji would typically join them for dinner. After eating, they would have a slow, rambling walk along the river or around the pond or through the gardens before returning to the house. It was late autumn in the human world, but here it was just edging into summer, and the grounds were glorious.

Renji would then take his leave, and the remaining three would ensconce themselves comfortably until bedtime- Byakuya would bury himself in clan business or reading, Rukia would enjoy manga imported from the living world, and Orihime had begun an embroidery project. It was all very comfortable and pleasant, and Orihime was enjoying feeling like part of their little family.

It was all very cathartic, and after a week of indulging herself thusly, Orihime was feeling renewed and ready to take on whatever her new existence threw at her. It was in no small part due to the Kuchiki siblings; Rukia's unflagging support and understanding, combined with late-night gab sessions involving lots of giggling, went far in lessening the ache of loss Orihime felt at being parted from Tatsuki.

And, strangely, Orihime was startled to realize she found immense solace in Byakuya's quiet company, especially during the after-dinner walks and when they returned to drink tea and enjoying their hobbies. Rukia and Renji were like a two-man comedy team together, and typically spent the evenings bantering with each other, so Orihime gravitated naturally toward the fourth member of their group. He would often perform calligraphy or occupy himself reading and writing letters; Orihime would embroider, or sometimes just stare out the opened shoji walls to the clear night sky and delicate blooms of flowers outside.

After a few days of this, one afternoon, Orihime set herself the task of planning out her new-hatched psychiatric practice. She took a notebook, pen, and bento of snacks to a shady tree at the edge of the koi pond and began to make an outline.

_#1, _she wrote carefully as she ate,_ figure out how to get paid._ This could be a touchy subject. The soldiers of the Gotei 13 were accustomed to receiving free health care as a part of their military service. If they had to give up part of their (not terribly lavish) salaries, the might balk and reject the idea of care entirely. _#1b,_ she added beneath it, _ask Unohana-taichou if a stipend might be possible_.

She didn't care about the money so much as what she needed it for, which was _#2: find an office to rent_. There needed to be a certain level of anonymity involved in therapy. If too many people observed Orihime visiting her patients at their homes or offices, it would soon be clear and public knowledge that therapeutic sessions were taking place.

Considering the stigma many people in Soul Society were bound to retain against the care of the mind, Orihime wanted to protect her patients from being mocked for trying to get better. An office where no one knew to look was needed. Should she not be able to secure funds, then _#2b: ask Byakuya-sama if patient sessions can take place here._ That one seemed extremely unlikely.

_#3: learn shunpou_. This had little to do with her practice, and everything to do with how embarrassed she was to have to ask people to haul her around Soul Society. Seireitei by itself was far too large for her navigate solely by walking, unless she wanted to spend the majority of her day as a pedestrian. She popped a grape into her mouth and underlined #3 to emphasize its urgency.

Then she put the notebook and pen aside and flopped to her back. The rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the tree overhead, dappling the ground and Orihime laying upon it. It was relaxing, almost hypnotic, and she let her eyelids drift closed.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to find herself in an undulating field of scarlet poppies, with fluffy clouds skidding across the bright blue sky above. They looked... odd. Orihime squinted at the sky and realized that it looked like it had been painted, the clouds added in broad brushstrokes of white and silver. She gazed around; in the distance, at the edge of the poppies, tall, slender trees swayed in the breeze.

"I wasn't here a minute ago," Orihime said aloud. It was odd, but not frightening. If anything, it felt deeply peaceful, like a place she'd waited to visit all her life.

"You carry this place with you wherever you go," said a tiny voice at her left ear, and she turned quickly to find Shun'ou, one of her healing fairies, hovering beside her.

"All you have to do is be calm and concentrate, and you can come here," added Hinagiku, one of the spirits making up her defensive shield.

"You're here!" Orihime exclaimed. "Is this my inner world? Why wouldn't you come out when I called before?"

"Things are different now," said Shun'ou. "You don't need us in the outside world anymore. But it's time for you to develop your skills further. You have a zanpakutou for a reason."

"I've been wondering about that," said Orihime. "Why bother having a sword if I never have to draw it?"

"You're the only person ever to be able to bring people back from the dead, now you want to be the only shinigami ever to have zanpakutou powers without a zanpakutou," snorted Tsubaki. He grabbed a lock of Orihime's hair and yanked hard, making her squeal in pain. "How much special treatment do you want, woman?"

"I get it, okay, stop pulling, Tsubaki!" Orihime whined, trying to disengage her hair from the fairy's grasp.

"We have a lot of new things to teach you," Shun'ou told her solemnly. "We should get started right away."

"These new things... they're better than my shields and healing and Tsubaki's attack?" Orihime could barely imagine anything better than what she could already do.

"Much, much better," whispered shy Ayame, who'd flown close to Orihime's ear so she could be heard. "You'll be so amazed and happy..."

Excitement raced through Orihime at the idea. "Let's get started!"

Some time later, the approach of a familiar reiatsu roused her from her semi-conscious state, and she propped herself up on her elbows as Byakuya blurred into sight at the end of a shunpou step before her.

She'd realized over the course of the past few days that he did it on purpose- he was so fond of discomfiting people. It was _funny _to him. Orihime had been able to recognize his reiatsu for years so she always knew when he was approaching, but since not much seemed able to put that tiny smile on his face, Orihime made a convincing show of speechless shock, just for him.

"Byakuya-sama!" she exclaimed, hand to her heart. "You'll scare the life out of me, one day!"

"Hn," was his only reply, but there was that teensy grin.

"You had a good day, I hope?" She stood and gathered her things, offering him something from her still-half-full bento (he refused). They began to stroll up the path toward the house, where Orihime knew he would want to bathe and put on civilian clothes before dinner.

"As good as any," he replied. "And you?"

"A very good day!" she said, and pumped the air with her fist, a motion his eyes tracked with amusement. "I've been in my inner world, practicing with my fairies!"

"Fairies?" Was he finally going to have to face the full extent of her rumored lunacy? And things had been going so well. Alas.

"My zanpakutou is made up of six beings... I guess they're not really fairies, but they're tiny and have wings, so that's what I call them," Orihime explained.

"Much like Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou have two beings that comprise their zanpakutous," Byakuya mused aloud.

Orihime nodded. "And since they've been part of me- my powers, that is- since before I died and got a zanpakutou, I didn't really have any other way to refer to them. We've never really known where they came from to begin with. I know that the Hougyouku manifested Sado-kun's and my wishes to be able to help Kurosaki-kun, and gave us each the powers we have, but where it got fairies from my hairpins, I will never understand."

She shook her head with a smile. He noticed she had a rather charming dimple in her left cheek.

"You have seen the manifestation of my zanpakutou during the rebellion, I believe," he said. At her nod, he continued, "I would be interested in seeing your... fairies, if you would permit it."

"I would definitely permit it!" she exclaimed, happy he was interested, "but they don't come out to the real world anymore. I can only see them in my inner world." She paused, seeming a little sad. "I miss them." Then she brightened at a thought. "But I can show you the new thing we learned today!"

Byakuya nodded, and Orihime leaned down to pick up a pebble from the path. She tossed the pebble, and cried, "_Shiten Fukumushun_! Four sacred containing shield, I reject!"

Four yellow sparks of light shot forward; most of them formed the usual three-pointed shield, but the last darted into position above them, forming a fourth point that completed the form: a pyramid. The pyramid shimmered golden, hovering in mid-air with a dark spot encapsulated within it, and Byakuya realized that the dark spot was the pebble Orihime had thrown: it had been neatly captured within the pyramid.

"I think it could be a pretty effective prison," Orihime ventured, "but all I've practiced on so far are pebbles and acorns. Maybe I can get Rukia to let me practice on her? I'd like to see what sort of resistance it could put up against someone fighting to get out."

_Fascinating_. Slowly, Byakuya dragged his eyes from the still-floating pyramid to face her. "I will help you," he said. Truthfully, he was dying to see how much force he had to exert before the barrier gave way. The applications in battle for this pyramid structure could not be underestimated.

Orihime's face lit up with delight. "Oh, would you? That would be such a help! Thank you!" She forgot herself enough to hug his arm to her chest, squeezing delightedly.

Byakuya did not register the soft mounds of her bust so much as the pleasant warmth of her touch. He hardly ever touched anyone anymore; sometimes, he felt like a ghost, wandering through the world with everyone either skirting around or passing straight through him, formless and immaterial. It felt shockingly good to have a tiny proof of his existence pressed against his arm.

"And maybe," she continued haltingly, seeming a little shy, "you could show me Zenbonzakura's releases, some time?"

He frowned. "Surely you've witnessed my shikai and bankai before."

"Oh, yes," Orihime said quickly, "but I was hoping I could see them from your point of view. Maybe stand right behind you, or something... it must be amazing to see all those millions of cherry blossom petals swooshing and whooshing around you in shikai... all those thousands of swords in bankai, all at your command... I always wondered..."

Her voice trailed off in embarrassment, as if she were afraid she'd gone over the edge of civility and now regretted her request.

"That would be fine," Byakuya replied, "as long as you obeyed me very precisely and stayed close." Honestly, it was very gratifying to have someone take such an interest in his zanpakutou's abilities. And his control and precision over it was flawless; if she did exactly as he said, she'd be in no danger of the flying sharded blades at all.

"Ooh, when? Can we do it now?" Orihime's eyes were shining with excitement.

But a servant was beckoning, albeit surreptitiously, from the direction of the house; that particular gesture meant 'dinner is ready, shall we hold it for you?' And it was almost twilight; his bankai was not something he wanted to unleash in the dark if there was no pressing need.

"Not today," he replied, "but soon, when we have sunlight and good time free."

"I will hold you to that!" Orihime said with a laugh. She was still clasping his arm, her hand tucked snugly in the crook of his elbow as they walked up the path to the house. It felt very companionable. "In the meanwhile, I can pick your brain about what I can do to establish a practice for myself here in Soul Society."

Ignoring the unpalatable sound of 'picking his brain', Byakuya applied that organ to the dilemma at hand. "There are obstacles, I presume?"

She nodded. "I have no money, so I have no way to rent an office where I can hold sessions with my patients." She paused delicately before continuing, "...unless I could see them here, at your house?"

"Indeed not," he replied, pleasantly. The Kuchiki estate was not a venue for psychiatric healing. The clan elders would faint in horror (though that would almost make it worthwhile). "What about seeing people at the Fourth Division? I'm surprised you have not already been approached by Unohana-taichou to serve there. There is talk of Yamamoto-soutaichou retiring in the next few decades, and her stepping into his role. If that happens, she will need replacing."

Orihime twitched in shock. "You can't mean _I_ would replace her! If anyone would, it would be Isane-san!"

He turned a sharp eye on her. "Kotetsu-san has no bankai. Her strength of reiatsu indicates to me that it is decades, if not centuries, in coming. If ever. And she has not the temperament for command."

"And I do?" Orihime asked, incredulous. "I'm the biggest push-over on the planet. And I just got shikai when I died a few weeks ago, bankai is decades away!"

"You've had shikai since you were fifteen years old, you ridiculous girl."

"But I wasn't even dead then," she protested. "And it was hairpins, not a sword! And-"

"And you're making excuses. You are powerful and talented enough to make an acceptable captain." He was very satisfied with his argument. "I suggest you begin to pursue bankai immediately."

"Unohana-taichou taught me healing kidou years ago, but there's so much I don't know how to do," Orihime mused haltingly, clearly feeling a little overwhelmed. "Maybe I should go to the Academy. At the very least, I should have Rukia teach me _shunpou_."

"Shunpou is best learned from a master; Rukia is competent but I am unsurpassed," Byakuya replied negligently before honesty compelled him to add, "except perhaps for Shihouin Yoruichi. We will commence your lessons immediately."

"I don't want to add more work to your busy week," she protested, having heard Renji's tales of woe for years now. It was enough that Byakuya's insane work ethic demanded he attend to Gotei 13 business every day, but Kuchiki family matters occupied a significant amount of his attention as well. Add teaching her to all that, and the poor man would have no time to sleep _or _eat. "None of the other captains work every day as you do. Could you take, say, one day off per week to give me lessons?"

Byakuya had been studying the glossy sheen of the pond's surface, and the perfect reflection of the passing clouds on its glasslike surface. He frowned at her request, then slowly rotated to face her. "You want me to abandon my work for an entire day, so I can devote it to your education?"

She had to laugh at his incredulous expression. "I don't want you to devote the _entire _day to me. Just an hour or two of it. I want you to devote the rest of the day to yourself."

He blinked in what passed for him as an expression of stupefaction. "But what would I _do _all day?"

_Oh, the poor dear._ "You could do more calligraphy. I've seen several books of poetry around, they're yours, aren't they? You could read them. Or go for more walks. Go swimming in the river. You have your own onsen; soak in it. Get drunk. Climb a mountain. Have a picnic. Take a nap under a tree." She shrugged. "There's a hundred things you could do on a day off."

Byakuya stared at her, at a loss for words. Even worse than her cheek for suggesting such a thing in the first place was the insidious curl of temptation that rose in the pit of his stomach. Some of those things... actually sounded appealing. He thought he might _enjoy _swimming in the river. Or soaking in the onsen. Or, _Kami _save him, even mountain-climbing. And napping under a tree sounded like bliss.

"Hn," is what he said, but what he thought was, _which shall I do first?_

Orihime suspected that she had actually managed to convince him. "Thank you, Byakuya-sama! Renji will be so pleased."

"I didn't say _Renji _would also have the day off," he replied absently, lost in wondering how to spend his free time. "He'll continue to work all seven days."

Still hunched over a pile of paperwork at the Sixth Division's office, Abarai Renji sneezed.

* * *

Rukia had to stay late at the Thirteenth so Renji didn't come for the evening meal, leaving Orihime to dine alone with Byakuya. Once they had finished, they stepped out on the verandah for their post-prandial constitutional, hesitating while they decided which direction of the estate to head toward.

"I suggest the river," he said. She nodded, and let him lead the way. She didn't mind walking behind him; it gave her the opportunity to study him in peace. He had the habit of bathing and changing out of his _shihakusho _upon return from the Sixth, and seemed both taller and slimmer without the uniform's bulk. Tonight he wore a dark green yukata over one of pale blue, a navy _obi _hanging low on his narrow hips. His black hair fell halfway down his back, moving freely in the breeze. He seemed relaxed, and Orihime was relieved she wasn't annoying him too badly.

From the house, there was a path of flat stones across a manicured expanse of grass down to the river, where one could choose to cross it on a high-curving wooden bridge, or follow a paved walkway along its edge. He glanced at her, a question, and she set foot on the bridge. At its apex, she stopped and leaned on the red-painted railing to stare down into the waters rushing below. Byakuya placed his elegant white hands on the railing and stood quietly beside her.

"If I ask you a question," she said, her voice a whisper barely heard over the river, "would you answer me honestly?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Honestly, or not at all," he agreed at last.

"Do you feel a burden to behave in a way other than how you actually feel?" Orihime straightened and turned to face him. The lingering glow of the dying sun gilded him lovingly; the last ray skimmed the high line of his cheekbone before gently fading into the tender blue of dusk. Yet again, she was struck by just how _handsome _he was, and couldn't help comparing him to Ichigo's vibrant features, and couldn't help hating herself for being unable to let Ichigo _go_.

"Daily," was Byakuya-sama's response. He clearly was disinclined to elaborate.

Orihime felt no such inhibition. "I feel like everyone expects me to be cheerful all the time, even when my heart is breaking." Twilight had fallen in earnest; the world was a symphony of deepening azure and cobalt, and turned his eyes from pewter to violet. "They feel uncomfortable if I show when I'm sad or angry. I feel like... like I'm not allowed to be anything but ditzy, clumsy, goofy Orihime."

Byakuya quirked a brow, glancing her way before returning his gaze to the rising moon. "I, for one, prefer when you do _not _behave that way."

She flashed him a quick, grateful grin that soon faded. "The truth is, that Orihime doesn't exist anymore. She died in Hueco Mundo, and she's not coming back. So I pretend. And I hate it." She gripped the railing until her knuckles whitened. "How do you manage to distance yourself from your true feelings, and maintain control?"

He was silent so long, she thought he wouldn't reply at all. "If I failed to control my emotions, I would likely reduce the world to a smoking crater," Byakuya told her at last.

Orihime's attention, diverted to the rippling surface of the river, flew to his face. It was as expressionless and calm as ever, but she looked closer, and could see a banked fire in his gaze. His reiatsu rose, just enough to prickle at the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. She felt a moment's fear as he turned to look fully at her, for a single moment hiding nothing from her, and she understood the true extent of his strength and power.

That heightened reiatsu pushed against the human world fibers of Orihime's clothing, making her even more uncomfortable in the modern-style garments. She squirmed; he pricked up an eyebrow again.

"These clothes don't feel right, now that I've died," she said, glad to change the subject. _That's what I get for trying to get deep with someone like him. I am so out of my league. _"They feel itchy and weird."

"Then don't wear them."

_Easy for him to say._ "I have nothing else."

"Hn." The moon had risen, its pallid light lovingly caressing the fine bones of his face. He peered into the distance, and pointed.

Orihime shuffled closer, as he indicated, and looked. From that vantage on the bridge, the moon's reflection shone down the exact center of the river, quicksilver coursing over its shadowed surface.

"Moments like this help," he said after a moment. "Peace, silence, beauty. They all... help."

"I'm glad," Orihime replied, and mustered a smile for him. "Because you seem so _sad _sometimes, Byakuya-sama, and I like you, and don't want you to be sad."

He blinked slowly at her. She was beginning to recognize that as a signal when he was just a little surprised. "I don't know if you are really as simple as you seem, or cunning enough to play at it."

Her smile faded. "I'm too tired to play at anything anymore. Dying has exhausted me. From now on, I've decided to be lazy, and just act the way I really feel. If other people can't handle it when I'm not happy and smiling, I think that has to be their problem instead of mine."

He began to walk off the bridge, leaving her to follow him once again. They were almost to the manor when he said, "I will hold you to that statement. No more pretending."

Her smile, this time, didn't have to be forced. "Yes, Byakuya-sama. No more pretending."

Upon their return from their walk, they settled in for the rest of the evening. Without Rukia to chatter with, Orihime began scribbling in her notebook instead of embroidering as usual. She was rather fascinating for Byakuya to watch because while she wrote, her face would scrunch in concentration; sometimes she would stick her tongue out. Then after that particular thought had been recorded, she would reread what she'd just written, bright eyes moving over the characters, and then she would smile. Or even laugh.

Byakuya thought that after over a decade of having Renji as his lieutenant, he'd have gotten accustomed to people so... emotive, people who had no problem not only feeling things but expressing them (in Renji's case, frequently and at peak volume- Byakuya felt deep appreciation that, if Orihime had to share her thoughts with the world, she did so in a quieter and more coherent fashion).

And yet it still startled him a little, how she let her face show her moods. More, how she spoke about them. Equanimity- evenness of outlook and expression- had been something drilled into Byakuya from childhood. Display of emotions had been discouraged in his youth, and his family had weaned him from even _having _emotions by the time he'd entered adulthood.

Except that they _hadn't_. There appeared to be something deeply flawed in Byakuya, some failure in his noble blood, because no matter how hard he tried, or how flawlessly he managed to suppress their expression, he had not yet managed to deaden the feelings that teemed within his heart. The strongest of them was usually shame, shame that he hadn't yet managed to root out all the rest, to stamp out the little wildfires of his soul so he could view the world with the implacable, deadened calm that was the hallmark of a Kuchiki.

Worse, sometimes they flared out of control and left behind a great swatch of scorched earth. It was with no small irony that he acknowledged that, when he faltered, his mistakes were enormous: Hisana, Rukia, Rukia's execution. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't yet been deposed as head of the Kuchiki clan.

...why didn't that idea fill him with horror?

Byakuya pondered what it might be like to be just a regular Kuchiki (since he could not conceive of an existence where he was not at a Kuchiki at all). He would not be permitted to inhabit the main areas of the house, not without invitation by the family head. Instead, he'd be granted a wing of chambers in some off-central area of the estate. The clan elders would care little of how he comported himself, as long as he brought no shame upon them. No meetings to undertake, no correspondence to labor over, no excruciatingly boring ceremonies wearing the hated formal robes.

The idea was far more attractive that it ought to have been, and Byakuya banished it from his mind.

"Woo!" said Orihime, and plunked her pen down on the table to raise her arms over her head for a luxurious stretch. Byakuya's gaze followed the line of her body from flexing fingers, past slender arms exposed when her sleeves slipped toward her shoulders, to the column of her neck revealed by the untidy bun into which she'd stuffed all that hair. He felt an impulse, quickly stifled, to run a fingertip down the enticing curve from the underside of her chin, over the tender line of her throat, to the slice of creamy skin above the neck of her shirt where the barest hint of cleavage teased the eye.

She was a pretty little thing, and it was not good that he was noticing it.

Another failing of Byakuya's- or was it a sub-set of the previous failing?- was his marked preference, in matters of the flesh and the heart, for women who were in no way suitable for his rank. He had met countless aristocratic beauties during his lifetime, and not one of them had stirred him in the slightest. They were just so... composed. He himself was composed enough for two; it seemed to him that at least one member of a couple should have something resembling a pulse.

Hisana had been energetic, but it had taken until the deathbed revelation of her deserted sister for Byakuya to realize it was a nervous energy, a jangling unrest that had ultimately killed her. Her body had shaken itself to death, worn out from the agitation of guilt. He had never held that grievous error, of leaving Rukia, against Hisana; everyone made mistakes, some of them cataclysmic in their scope. It made him feel better, sometimes, to recall his own; they seemed proof against his petrifying descent toward a perfect, stone-like blankness.

A discreet scratch at the door signaled that it was time to retire to bed; the servant was waiting to clear away the tea set and take herself to her own quarters for the night. Byakuya and Orihime put away their writing materials and stood; he slid open the door and waited for her to precede him through it.

"I will take a day off soon, and teach you shunpou," he said into the companionable silence between them.

Orihime looked up at him, mouth a round O of surprise. "You will? Really? I'm so glad!" She seemed poised to inflict an embrace of thanks upon him; to his relief, she refrained, instead settling for bouncing once in glee and clasping her hands in front of her chest while she beamed up at him. Byakuya was both bemused and gratified by how easily she was made happy; he'd known jaded socialites who wouldn't see fit to nod their heads at a tribute of gems and gold, and yet the simple gift of an hour of his time had her shining up at him like a little sun. Such a strange woman.

He gave her his usual goodnight bow, about to turn away toward his own bedroom, when Orihime, apparently unable to restrain from touching him in some way, gave his wrist the briefest of squeezes in gratitude. He knew other men, able to joke and flirt, would make some sort of jocular comment like, "Be careful about touching me so easily; I might get used to it."

The problem was that he truly did have to be wary of her touching him too much; if he became too accustomed to the pleasant warmth of her skin against his, and then it happened no more... oh, how he had suffered at Hisana's loss. And oh, how he would suffer that much, and more, to have it again, then to lose it.

Byakuya stepped back, sternly telling himself that he was _not _retreating, thankyouverymuch. He gave Orihime one last, brisk nod, and left.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here's chapter 6! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'm so happy you're enjoying it this much! I feel a little insecure because each chapter is getting hundreds of views but I'm only getting a dozen or so reviews each so it's got me wondering if maybe not many people are interested in the story. If you enjoy reading it, please let me know you want me to continue by reviewing :)**

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 6**

By the end of Orihime's second week in Soul Society, Rangiku was clamoring for her to join their group for their monthly pub crawl. On the designated night, Orihime met Rangiku at the Tenth Division captain's office, where the other woman was lounging on the sofa looking bored as Hitsugaya Toushirou finished up the last of the paperwork she hadn't done and griped at her.

"Hi, Shirou-kun!" Orihime exclaimed.

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou, dammit!" he snapped in return, even as he manfully endured the hug and kiss she lavished upon him.

"Yes, yes," she agreed with a smile. He'd grown in the last ten years and now stood at her own height of five foot, two inches or so. He had the look of an adolescent, all gangly limbs and prominent Adam's apple. Rangiku had confided that his voice broke on occasion, causing him no end of embarrassment, so he almost never spoke for fear of it happening in public. Even as awkward as he was, there was a burgeoning sense of how very handsome he'd end up being when he finally reached manhood in ten or twenty years. Orihime couldn't resist hugging him again.

This time he blushed and batted her arms away, stomping toward the door. "I don't care how drunk you get tonight, Matsumoto! I want you here at eight a.m. tomorrow morning!" Then he left in a swirl of captain's haori, size 'petite'.

The moment the door slid shut behind him, Rangiku's languid attitude vanished, and she sat up in excitement. "We're gonna have so much fun tonight! I used you as enticement, and _everyone's _going to come!"

That sounded daunting. "Who's 'everyone'?" Orihime asked with trepidation.

Rangiku put a finger to her chin, thinking hard. "Most of the lieutenants or, if the divisision doesn't have one, 3rd seats! At least a dozen people! I even got Kira, Nanao, and Momo!"

That _was _impressive; those three were notoriously hard to get to socialize. Nanao preferred to shut herself in a quiet room and relax after a stressful day of wrangling her recalcitrant captain; Kira was usually too depressed, and Momo had become much quieter after her near-death injuries at the hands of her beloved Aizen-taichou.

"It sounds interesting, at the very least," said Orihime after thinking about it a moment.

"Yeah! One way or another, I bet they'll be talking about tonight for weeks to come!" Rangiku seemed to relish the idea of potential notoriety. "But first, we gotta get you into something sexier!"

Orihime blinked, a sense of foreboding trickling along her spine. She looked down at her knee-length skirt, short-sleeved blouse, and ballet flats. "Isn't this, uh, sexy enough? I wasn't really thinking of trying to get anywhere with a man tonight." _Or any night_, she added to herself. She'd put her love for Ichigo behind her, but she'd only been dead for two weeks. Wasn't this a bit too fast?

"No time like the present!" Rangiku sang, and with her hand a manacle around Orihime's wrist, dragged her out of the office, down the hall, across the courtyard, and into the officers' quarters with Orihime protesting the entire way. "And no one said you had to hook up with anyone. Just... loosen up. Let your hair down. _Flirt_. Get used to interacting with men who aren't Ichigo, because there's an excellent chance one of them- all of them, even!- will be interested in you."

She released Orihime's wrist once they were in her quarters and surveyed her with hands on hips. "And what are you gonna do if a guy is into you? Cuz right now, the answer is probably going to be 'blush, stammer, and run away'. That's been your _modus operandi _for the past ten years, and it's gonna change starting _tonight_!"

Rangiku began to dig through a waist-high pile of clothing dumped on the floor. "Believe it or not, all this stuff is clean," she muttered, discarding unwanted garments over her shoulder until she found what she wanted. "Here." She shoved a few pieces at Orihime. "Go put this on. I'll get out the makeup and hair stuff."

Orihime stood there a moment, steeped in dread, before realizing the futility of protest and retreating to the bathroom to change. The bathroom was as cluttered as Rangiku's room, with bottles and jars of cosmetics and skincare items covering every surface. Orihime went to push down her skirt, her elbow hit something, and toiletries cascaded down to the floor.

"Never mind that stuff!" called Rangiku from outside. "I'll get it later!"

_Oh boy._ Once skinned down to her underwear, Orihime regarded the clothes Rangiku had chosen for her: brief cutoff jeans and a cream-colored tunic-style knit top with full sleeves, plus a brown leather belt. It... wasn't too bad, actually. She put them on, buckled the belt low on her hips over the tunic, and left the bathroom to begin part two of the beautification ritual.

"Aha! Looks great, I knew it would!" Rangiku crowed. She herself had changed into a pair of snug boot-cut jeans and a slim-fitting cardigan in soft peony-pink cashmere, its V-neck unbuttoned even further to reveal her resplendent charms. She'd already put her golden hair into a high, loose ponytail. Altogether, she looked soft and sensually delicious. Orihime felt pity for the men accompanying them tonight; it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

Rangiku made Orihime sit in a chair before the mirror over the dresser, and got to work. She put Orihime's hair in a messy bun, fixing it in place with a few cute gold hairpins, then applied some simple cosmetics: peachy blush and lipgloss, golden eyeshadow, brown eyeliner, and followed it up lashings of mascara. She gave Orihime gold bangles for her arms and dangly earrings to put on while she duded herself up with pink on the cheeks and lips with grey and black on the eyes, then loaded herself with silver jewelry. She stepped into black suede stilettos while Orihime buckled strappy brown leather wedges on her feet just in time to answer the pounding at the door.

"Rangiku, dammit, you were supposed to meet us downstairs ten minutes ago," complained Ikkaku from the other side of the door. "Nanao says if you're not downstairs in one minute, we're leaving without- _holy shit_."

The cussing came because Rangiku had opened the door to him by the time he'd ended his sentence, and he'd been struck dumb at his first glimpse of her.

"W-w-were we suppose to wear western clothing?" he managed after a full second of silence, tearing his eyes from the vision before him to glance down at his own outfit- not the _shihakusho_, but still a kosode and hamaka with sandals.

"It was whatever anyone wanted to wear," Rangiku said breezily, "so don't worry about it." She glanced behind her. "Orihime, ready?"

"Y-yes!" Orihime wasn't great at walking on heels so she stepped forward over Rangiku's mess-strewn floor with caution. "Hello, Ikkaku-kun!"

Another moment of respectful silence; then Ikkaku found his tongue and managed a wobbly smile. "Hi, Orihime-san. It's good you're joining us tonight. _Really _good."

She tried to control a blush and accepted the arm he held out as they descended the stairs, more from a need for stability on the platform wedges than anything else.

Outside was a sizeable cluster of people, all of whom hooted an enthusiastic greeting when they saw Orihime was there, which made her blush again.

"Worth the wait!" called a male voice from the middle of the pack. It sounded like Iba.

"Hi, Orihime-chan!" called Renji from the rear, waving. She waved back shyly and was glad he was there; she felt uncertain with so many people with whom she had only passing acquaintance.

"Was tonight supposed to be western attire?" Isane asked no one in particular, giving a longing look at their outfits. "I wish I'd known."

"Do you even _have _western attire?" Nanao wanted to know.

"I have plenty of western clothes you can wear!" Rangiku cried. "Just come upstairs, it'll only take a minute!"

"Noooo!" howled Iba. "Let's get going!"

"Don't be so selfish, Iba!" Rangiku whined.

Orihime gently detached herself from Ikkaku's arm and went toward the calmer members of the throng, where Momo, Kira, and Nemu stood watching with wide eyes as the louder of the bunch made their opinions known.

"Hi, Momo-san! Kira-san! Nemu-san!" she said, smiling. "I'm glad you decided to come, I don't think I'd last long with the noisy ones over there!"

"Let's us quieter ones stick together," said Momo, eyeing the others warily.

"Strength in numbers," Kira murmured with a tiny smile.

"..." said Nemu. Orihime beamed warmly at her anyway.

In the end, Rangiku's desire to swap Isane's outfit for something western was rejected, and they all began their journey.

"Where are we going?" asked Orihime.

"Once the war ended, Ikkaku and Iba compiled a list of every pub and bar in all four sections of Rukongai," Momo answered. "Then the group began visiting each one in alphabetical order, one per week."

"The only acceptable excuse for cancelling a week is if something big is happening- invasion, warfare, et cetera," Kira added. "It's been going on every week since the day Aizen was imprisoned."

"What are we up to now?" Orihime asked. What a fun idea! She was glad she was able to be a part of it.

"We are midway though the list of establishments beginning with the letter H," intoned Nemu. "Tonight's bar is located in District 54 of West Rukongai. It is named 'The Happy Cock'."

The other three pondered that for a moment; then Orihime gave a nervous giggle, which Momo mirrored after a split-second. Kira just smirked and tilted his head back to study the darkening sky. Nemu seemed confused, until-

"I suppose it is a funny name," she allowed. "But how can one tell if a cock is happy?"

She hadn't said it quietly, and the louder section of the group started paying attention to their conversation.

"There's generally one or two things that can clue you in to a cock's happiness," Ikkaku commented with a huge grin.

Shuuhei and Yumichika shook their heads and smiled while Iba and Renji guffawed. Rangiku was elbowing Nanao salaciously; Nanao, for her part, scowled and elbowed her back in retaliation. Isane looked embarrassed; her sister, Kiyone, didn't seem to get it so Isane whispered in her ear until she exclaimed, "Oh, nasty!"

Nemu tilted her head to the side. "I was under the impression that chickens are very stupid creatures, unable to feel any emotion besides fear. Are they capable of feeling contentment as well? How might a male of the species express such contentment?"

Everyone went silent, exchanging amused glances; Iba snickered. Shuuhei shook his head a second time.

"Oh," Nemu said after a moment. "You were employing a euphemism for a penis."

"There, exactly what no one needed to explain," said Nanao, looking disgusted.

Iba muttered, "Why does she even come to these things?" which earned him a glare from tender-hearted Momo, who put a protective arm around Nemu, who appeared clueless as to why she might need protecting.

"This is taking too long!" Rangiku declared, mostly because she wanted to deflect attention from Nemu's _faux pas _but also because she was ready to get her drink on. "Shunpou... away!"

Everyone else flash-stepped away except Orihime and Kiyone, who looked at each other in confusion.

"I don't know shunpou," Orihime confessed.

"I do, but I don't know where the bar is," said Kiyone. She put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Big stupids."

Isane and Kira flashed back at that moment. "I remembered I never told you where it was," Isane told her little sister, who opened her mouth to grump. Isane wisely chose that moment to flash-step away, and Kiyone was cut off before she could say a word.

"I thought you might not know shunpou yet," Kira said to Orihime.

"I don't! Thank you for thinking of me, Kira-san!" Orihime replied. Kira held out his arm and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. With the familiar sliding sensation, they blurred into action.

Everyone else had gone inside by the time they arrived at The Happy Cock. The official mascot was indeed a male chicken, but every image of it was accompanied by clusters of substantially-sized mushrooms. Orihime didn't have to think hard to figure it out. She wondered if Nemu understood, or had asked more weird questions, and hoped she hadn't missed it, if so.

Two seats had been reserved for them, and Orihime sank into hers; Yumichika was on her left, and Kira sat at her right.

"Kanpai," Yumichika told her with a fetching smile, handing her a saucer and pouring sake into it.

"Kanpai!" called everyone else, and they all raised their saucers in a toast.

Sipping from her saucer, Orihime took the opportunity to study her surroundings. The Happy Cock was dingy and somewhat disreputable; she'd never have stayed if she weren't in the company of so many of the strongest soldiers in Soul Society. Still, this was District 54, and there were a total of 80 districts, each progressively worse. How much more of a dive might be found in Zaraki? She decided to ask Kira, as Yumichika was having an animated discussion with Isane over superior brands of moisturizer.

Kira, who had been quietly and steadily pouring sake straight down his throat, thought for a moment and gave a discreet burp before answering. "There are no bars in Zaraki," he said at last. "There are no businesses there at all."

"What?" Orihime had trouble understanding that. "How do people live without any... any commerce?"

"I've only been there once, on a mission to kill Hollows, but that was enough." He drained his saucer and refilled it. "Going to Zaraki district is like travelling back to the Stone Age. There's no technology, not even something as primitive as a hammer and nails. The people there are lucky to have fire. They live in huts made of tree branches, they have nothing to wear but the skins of animals they've killed for food."

Another sip of sake, and then he made his conclusion. "Commerce can't exist without some sort of societal structure, without civilization. Civilization has no place there. People complain about how savage Zaraki-taichou is... they've never been to that district. If they had, they'd know how lucky we are that the man is as refined as he is. For him to have not only survived it, but risen to be a captain... it's nothing less than extraordinary."

"Yes, yes, we all love Zaraki-taichou!" Rangiku exclaimed. Around the tables, the faces displayed differing levels of agreement with her statement. "But you're being _gloomy _again, Kira! Didn't I say you could only come along tonight if you weren't gloomy? Hey?"

Kira sighed and drained his saucer.

"Let's all talk with Orihime-chan! She's the reason our group's extra big and fun tonight!" Rangiku leaned across the table toward her, her bosom threatening to escape from the cardigan. On either side of her, Ikkaku and Iba appeared to be mentally willing the cashmere to give up on any hopes of containment.

Orihime looked up from her sake, horrified to be the center of attention. "Oh, no, Rangiku-chan! I don't-"

Rangiku was not to be stopped. "You've got a zanpakutou, so you gotta choose a squad! Everyone, let's go around the table and convince Orihime why she wants to join our divisions!"

Everyone seemed to like that idea except Orihime, whose opinion didn't seem to rate very highly when the opportunity to brag about one's division was on offer.

"Let's start from the beginning!" said Rangiku, the undisputed ringleader. "One and Two aren't here- thank the gods- so we're up to Three! Kira, it's your time to shine!"

Kira blinked and appeared to be dredging through the sodden fields of his mind for a reason Orihime should join his squad. "You seem to be an honest woman. We need honest people in our division. We're not very rowdy, so if you like a peaceful environment-"

"Bo-ring!" cried Rangiku. "Isane, the Fourth!"

"Since you're a healer, you'd fit right in with us, Orihime-san!" said Isane. "And you're already friends with Unohana-taichou, and me, and Hanatarou-kun. We'd be very excited to have you!"

Momo spoke up for the Fifth Division. "We like harmony, but we're not boring!" She shot a stern look at Rangiku. "We help each other a lot, and Hirako-taichou makes learning new skills fun. Since you're very new to Soul Society and haven't been to the Academy, it might be a good place for you to get the essentials down."

Renji relaxed back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I can't say my division is huge fun, but we do everything by the book and get a lot of recognition for that. We're highly respected. And a lot of noble and rich families like their kids to be there, so they give us fancy presents and dinner parties to try and bribe Kuchiki-taichou into accepting them." He grinned widely. "Never works- Taichou can't be bought- but we've gotten some great food, a sauna, and a soccer field out of them so far, so no one's complaining."

Iba squared his shoulders when it was his turn. "My captain is very reliable and treats everyone like we're his kids. The Seventh is a big, warm family. If you joined, you'd be accepted and welcomed right away. It's really a wonderful feeling." He became aware of how the others were eyeing him in surprise, and ducked his head, finding the scarred surface of the table suddenly very fascinating.

Nanao cleared her throat. "Honestly, I have to recommend that you not join the Eighth. I'm sure you are a wonderful healer and would be a valuable addition to our squad, but I'm afraid you're just too attractive. My captain would be even more useless if someone with your looks was available to be bothered all the time." Her customary scowl deepened further. "As it is, he has wasted significant time wondering about you since he became aware of your passing from the living world."

Shuuhei smiled at Orihime; she hadn't seen him too often before her death, and never this close; he was more handsome than she'd thought, and she felt her cheeks warm in response to his attention. "The Ninth is in charge of arts and culture. We put out the _Seireitei Communication _magazine every month, and have several musical groups- a small orchestra and a jazz band- plus a theater group. They all put on performances every month as well. Once a quarter, we have an exhibition of artwork, and work closely with the ikebana and calligraphy clubs to exhibit their work as well. If you like the arts, the Ninth is the place for you."

Rangiku bounced in her seat, excited to talk up her division. "You should join the Tenth! Our captain is the cutest of _all_ the captains! And in the summer, he makes it so the whole headquarters is nice and cool, as if we had air conditioning!"

"That's all you got?" Ikkaku directed a sneer at her before addressing Orihime with a shrewd eye. "I gotta say, I don't see you fitting in at the Eleventh, you're no fighter, but you get along with all the guys pretty well. Yachiru and Taichou like you, and that's not nothing. We could always use our own healer, would save time from having to schlep over to the Fourth every time someone gets hurt."

"Plus you and I would have more time to talk!" added Yumichika with a lovely smile. "You're a bit more refined than the usual thugs I have to put up with. Your presence would be a refreshing and, might I add, much-needed change." He blithely ignored Ikkaku's wounded yelp of protest.

"As you are aware, my father has been fascinated by your abilities for many years now. He would welcome the opportunity to examine and experiment upon you," intoned Nemu. "Your participation would be a substantial contribution to his body of work."

"Yeah, that'll tempt her to join the Twelfth, Nemu," muttered Renji, who then tossed back a full saucer of sake.

Kiyone beamed at her from her end of the table. "You've got to join the Thirteenth, Orihime-san!" she said. "You already know Ukitaki-taichou, isn't he _wonderful_? You're really energetic, that's just what we're looking for!"

"So?" prodded Rangiku. "Which'll it be?" She positioned her index fingers in a cross in front of her chest, not-so-subtly making the sign for 'ten'.

"R-Rangiku-chan, I can't possibly make a decision like that on the spur of the moment like this! I have to put some thought into it! " Orihime hadn't even decided if she were joining the Gotei 13 in the first place. "I was actually thinking of opening a private practice, and seeing if I could get some patients on my own."

"Why would anyone go to you when they could see Isane-nee and Unohana-taichou for free?" Kiyone asked, and it seemed to be the question everyone else was thinking.

"My specialty in medical school was psychiatry," Orihime explained reluctantly. "It's the treatment of the mind, the healing of mental disorders, providing therapy for people with emotional troubles. I don't think the Fourth Division currently has anything like that-" She sent a questioning glance at Isane, who shook her head in the negative, "-so I think there might be a real opportunity for me to bring something to people who need it."

"So, you'd be fixing crazy people," said Iba. His expression said he was skeptical of the whole thing, and suspicious of her for being a proponent of it.

"_No_," Orihime said loudly, surprising herself and everyone else with her sternness, but she felt very strongly about this. "I don't like calling people 'crazy', first of all, so please don't say that, Iba-san." He had the grace to look sheepish. "It's about helping people have better lives. _Everyone _has some sort of trouble that keeps them from being as happy as they deserve. My job is to help them past that trouble, so there's nothing stopping them from having a wonderful life."

"I think that sounds admirable," commented Shuuhei with a faint smile. Orihime felt her cheeks heat again at his attention.

"I think it sounds like a waste of time," Ikkaku drawled. "No offense, Orihime-san. But if you're worked up about something, why not just fight it out?" He shrugged lazily. "Seems to do the trick for me."

"Not everyone hovers at the edge of violence all the time," murmured Kira into his saucer, _just _loud enough to be heard around the table. Ikkaku got a certain glint in his eye that spoke of retaliation, but Nanao elbowed him in the side and after a murderous glare at her he kept quiet.

Rangiku called for another round, and Nanao scolded her for being loud and getting too drunk. Ikkaku, Iba, and Renji began an argument about who had the most scars. Shuuhei watched, amused, while Isane and Kiyone bickered in a sisterly fashion. Nemu appeared to be performing a mental catalogue of everyone's comportment for some report to be completed at a later date, and Yumichika just watched them all with an indulgent smile while stroking his feathers.

A touch on the back of her shoulder caught her attention; she looked up from her perusal of her empty saucer to find Momo leaning around behind Kira to look at her.

"Don't feel bad," Momo said softly. "I think what you do is a good idea, and I know there are plenty of people who could use your help." She glanced around to be sure the others weren't paying attention, her gaze resting on Kira a moment longer than the rest. "I would love to come see you, in fact. And you could make specific offers in private to other people, I'm sure they would accept as well." Again, her eyes flicked to Kira's back.

Orihime nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Momo-san." They smiled at each other and faced back to the table.

Orihime put down her own saucer, quite sure she'd had enough for the night. What she'd already had was churning in her stomach a little; she didn't like having all eyes on her, plus having to hold up her profession to the scrutiny of everyone (and having it be mocked) made her feel uncomfortable and, if she were being honest with herself, a little insulted.

Then she scolded herself for being too sensitive; wasn't she already used to the stigma against psychiatry, psychology and being "crazy" that still existed in the living world? Soul Society was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in the feudal era. Its inhabitants were likely to be even more primitive-minded about the new-fangled study of the mind.

She sighed, feeling tired and wishing she'd stayed at the manor. A peaceful evening embroidering while Byakuya wrote letters sounded heavenly, in retrospect. There was something very calming about his presence.

She leaned back to address Momo again. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you," she whispered across Kira's slumped back, "but would you bring me to the Kuchiki estate, please? I think I'm ready to go back now."

"I'll bring you back, Orihime-san," said Kira with a hiccup. "I wanna go home too."

That drew the attention of the rest of the table's occupants.

"Orihime, already?" Rangiku shouted in dismay. "It's too soon, too soon!"

"Drunk already? Ya lightweight." Ikkaku aimed a rather endearing grin her way, impossible to be offended by.

"This is more sake than I've ever had in my life!" Orihime said with a laugh. "Maybe next time I'll be able to hold more, but for tonight- I'm at my limit!"

"Relax, Kira," said Renji, rising with a stretch of long arms over his head. "She's staying with my taichou, I'll take her home."

They made their farewells. Orihime felt the awkwardness of before had dissipated, and a sense of belonging to this boisterous group had her beaming at them all fondly until Renji steered her toward the exit with his hand at her back. By this point of the night, there were a few rough-looking customers ranged around The Happy Cock, and a few of them looked more interested in Orihime than she might have liked, but a glower from Renji had them all turning back to their drinks without a problem.

Renji hooked an arm around Orihime's waist and propelled them into a flash-step. It took about twenty minutes before they reached Seireitei, and another five from the west gate to the Kuchiki compound. Orihime closed her eyes and let the wind cool her flushed face; she felt pleasantly buzzed from the sake, and the idea of her own practice- which she hadn't really allowed herself to hope for- was starting to seem like an attainable possibility. She'd have to think about it more.

Renji brought them down not at the estate's front gate as she'd expected but inside the walls, and alit on the veranda outside the sitting room, where the shoji walls had been closed to the night air.

"Hey," he said, before Orihime could tell him goodnight, "I wanted to apologize if you felt bad, back there. Iba and Ikkaku are, uh, idiots. You've known them for years, you know that, hey?" He scratched at the back of his head, clearly feeling out of his element. "So don't be upset."

"I know," she said. "I was a little hurt, but I'm not anymore. It's not for you to apologize anyway, you didn't do anything wrong, Renji-kun!" She gave a little bow. "But thank you."

He grinned back. "For what it's worth, I think what you want to do is a good idea. Lots of bad shit went down during the war. It was a while ago, but some good people are still struggling with what happened to them, and what they had to do. It's not right."

Orihime had to smile at him; tough-as-nails thug he tried to appear, but Abarai Renji was a grade-A sweetheart at his core. "It's not right at all, Renji-kun," she said, "and I'm going to fix it."

He rumpled her hair, making her squeak in surprise. "If anyone can, it'd be you." He peered up at the moon. "Getting late. I gotta get back there to help the drunker ones get home." He heaved a sigh. "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be one of the responsible ones." He glanced teasingly at her. "It depresses me. Maybe I should come talk to you."

"You're always welcome, Renji-kun." She waved as he flash-stepped away.

She considered going to bed, but apart from being a little chilly, she felt like enjoying the remainder of her sake buzz and sat at the edge of the veranda, feet dangling over the edge, to stare up at the moon gleaming in the sky, a pearl against dark velvet. The shoji panel slid open, and soft footsteps approached from behind.

"What did they say?" Byakuya asked. His voice was a low, smooth rumble in the night. Orihime should have gotten up to face him, should have greeted him with respect, but she was still a little drunk and a lot sleepy and she just leaned against the support beam, the wood solid against her cheek.

"They don't understand what I do, or see how it has value." She tilted her head back to peer at him, and it hit his knees; she hadn't realized he stood so close. "But they're not used to the idea, so it's okay. It takes time to accept new things."

"Hn," he said. "Ignore them."

"That's just what I planned to do, Byakuya-sama!" she agreed, and decided it was time for bed. She began to try to gain her footing, but the high-heeled shoes plus the sake was making it difficult. Byakuya plucked her off the floor and set her upright, for which she thanked him with as much dignity as she could muster.

The moon was almost new that night; its light was weak, and yet still bright enough to send a beam that managed to fall over him, silvering his hair and eyes. It could well have been the sake talking, but Orihime was struck- not for the first time- by how handsome he was. _He even seems handsomer than before_, she thought, and wondered if it was because she was dead now, or because she was simply getting to know him as a person instead of having him on the periphery of her awareness as merely Rukia's aloof brother.

"Go to bed now," he said, interrupting her reverie and making her realize she'd been staring up at him like a half-wit.

"That's just what I planned to do, Byakuya-sama!" she agreed again, smiling even as he stared at her impassively. She was definitely learning to read him, because she could see amusement lurking in what might appear, to most of the world, to be a flat and expressionless gaze.

Orihime managed to find her room without incident, and made short work of flinging her futon to the floor before stripping off Rangiku's loaned clothes and dropping to the mattress. Her head hit the pillow, and she smiled. Tomorrow, she was definitely going to plan out the establishment of her psychiatric practice.

But first, to sleep off the booze...


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for everyone's kind words of encouragement! It makes me feel better, now that I know I'm not just talking into the wind and that there are more people than I think who are enjoying this story. It's become a bit of an obsession for me, writing it. **

**HimeChan24, I'm with you, I hate how so many people write Orihime as some sort of brain-addled maniac. **

**Pheecat, thank you for your wonderful cheerleading, that's the sort of feedback I'm craving (whether my pacing is too slow or too fast), ILU! **

** .1, I'm so happy I was able to entice you over to the dark side of enjoying Ori/Bya as a pairing!**

**StrawberryKiwi4, I'm so happy you feel my characterizations are accurate, I worry so much so that makes me feel more relaxed. I hope I continue to do a good job, please let me know if I screw it up!**

**Redchicken888, I *love* OCD readers, please let me know if you spot any problems. The Happy Cock is the name of an actual bar in Japan, actually (I have a whole list!). Feel free to put this on your Kindle! Thanks for your interest!**

**And here's the next chapter, please review if you enjoyed it :)**

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 7**

"Two thousand _kan _says this is the most he's touched a woman in years," muttered Ikkaku one morning a week later, from his position at the edge of the Sixth Division's practice yard.

"I'll see that action, and raise it another two," Shuuhei muttered back. He'd just arrived, as had Ikkaku, at Renji's summons to "come watch something funny".

"So disrespectful," Renji said, but it was clearly a token protest. There was a light in his eyes, born the moment Orihime had arrived at the Sixth for her "lesson in _shunpou _from Byakuya-sama!", that spoke of high hopes of amusement on his part.

So far, the lessons hadn't gone too well. For Orihime, that was. For the three men, in only the few minutes they'd gathered to watch, it had already been highly successful in bringing the laughs.

"You in or not?" demanded Ikkaku with a sideways glance.

Renji sighed. "Yeah, put me in for four."

"Betting on my brother's sex life?" The voice was a whiplash of scorn, coupled with a pistol-shot of derision. Rukia elbowed her way to the forefront of the little group. "I would expect nothing less from this pair of reprobates, but you, Renji?"

He blushed, both at being caught speculating about his captain's sex life and being scolded by a woman half his size. Then he shrugged. "Something to do."

"As if any of you fools have room to talk. When was the last time _you _got laid, Madarame? Hisagi?" She huffed out a breath in disgust. "Why are you lot even here? What's happening?" Rukia peered skyward. "Is that Orihime? What are she and Nii-sama doing?"

"He's teaching her _shunpou_," explained Renji, glad to change the subject.

Rukia frowned as Orihime noticed her friend's presence, got distracted, and started falling. Byakuya flashed over and caught her before she'd gone ten feet. "Are you sure?"

"She's having trouble staying airborne at all. Her mind keeps wandering at how 'fun' it is to be 'flying', and then she drops like a rock. He's caught her sixteen-" Ikkaku stopped and waited while Orihime fell again, until Byakuya nabbed her mid-air "-seventeen times, now. That we've seen; they started before we got here, so it could be more."

Byakuya set her on her feet again, his hands still grasping her arms, and told her, "I'm not catching you again. If you fall, it will be to your peril."

(Ikkaku: "Peril? Who says 'peril'?"

Shuuhei: "Kuchiki-taichou, apparently.")

A shriek from above caught their attention. "I did it! I'm doing it! Rukia-chan, Renji-kun, I'm doing it!"

"Only because the alternative is _death_," Byakuya told her, sounding very severe. Orihime laughed, as if he'd made an excellent joke. "Ignore them and pay attention."

But she was running, then hopping, then skipping through the air, because she _could_. To the appreciation of the males present, she even performed a series of cartwheels that had her displaying her panties to all and sundry, which made Rukia's eyes bulge in dismay. She opened her mouth to warn the other girl, but Renji drawled, "Don't tell her to stop on our account," and then she had to hit him.

Byakuya merely crossed his arms and waited until Orihime was done exulting. "Okay," she gasped, catching her breath. "Ready now."

"This time, instead of merely coalescing the energy beneath your feet to hold you aloft, you must charge it to propel you forward. Visualize as needed. When you are ready, come to me."

Orihime frowned in concentration, then nodded decisively. Then she blurred a bit- not fast enough to disappear completely like a _shunpou _master would, but enough to look hazy and indistinct- and shot forward directly into Byakuya. The audience had to choke back laughter at his expression when Orihime reappeared plastered up against his body, her face mashed against his chest.

"I said 'come to me', not 'merge with my physical being'," he said, and put her firmly away from him. She just laughed again and jogged back to her original place. "Precision is important; you must be able to calculate where the step will end so you do not crash and become injured."

"Yes, Byakuya-sama," she replied dutifully, but the laughter was still in her voice. She tried again and was still too close, but after a half-dozen attempts was able to stop within a respectful foot of him instead of directly in jarring contact.

"Now we try for distance." He flicked a glance to the crew of loiterers regarding them from below. "Your fan club can provide assistance with this, I believe." He directed the group to space themselves evenly around the edges of the practice yard, in order to catch Orihime if she overshot her target, hopefully preventing her from bashing herself into a wall or rooftop.

"Ready, Byakuya-sensei!" Orihime chirped, earning a bland look from him.

"Go to Rukia."

Orihime obediently shot over to Rukia, bumping into her not too badly, and hugging her in delight.

"To Renji."

She bumped into Renji, as well. "What, no hug for me?" he teased, so she hugged him, too.

"Cease that nonsense," said Byakuya. "To Madarame."

She managed to only brush the front of Ikkaku, who received her sally with widespread arms in preparation for a hug of his own, but Byakuya commanded, "To Hisagi," and she shot away before he could collect.

She was able to stop herself an inch away from Shuuhei. "Good job," he told her, earning himself a beaming smile.

"Faster now, without stopping. To me, then Renji." Orihime flashed back to Byakuya, then his lieutenant. "Madarame. Rukia. Hisagi."

Faster and faster, Orihime whizzed between them, beginning to understand the mental mechanics of _shunpou_. She tested different mental visualizations, realized it went faster, smoother, and used less energy if she sprang from the balls of her feet instead of the entire sole.

She got too caught up in thinking about those mechanics, however, and overshot her step to Shuuhei, instead rocketing into him with such force that they fell backwards onto the headquarters roof with Shuuhei on his back and Orihime sprawled over him.

"Hisagi-san! Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I? I have a very hard head!" She reached her hands to his face and began feeling over it for injury. "If so, I can heal it! Is there any blood?"

He sat up, his hands on her arms gently pushing her back. "I'm fine, Inoue-san." His face seemed quite pink; the pink deepened as she continued to feel down his neck to his shoulders while straddling his lap. "Really, I'm fine. Takes more than a little thing like you crashing into me."

She shot him a look of false outrage, her smile already starting to break through.

Then Byakuya, having flash-stepped to them, took her by the scruff of the neck like a kitten and plucked her neatly off Shuuhei's lap. "If you are ready to continue?"

Orihime began again, shooting around the practice yard between everyone until she could reliably stop within a foot of any of them. Byakuya, seeing her exhaustion, called a halt to the proceedings and she sank with gratitude to sit at the edge of the headquarter's veranda and catch her breath.

"An acceptable start," Byakuya declared it, once he'd flashed beside her. Orihime gave him a weary bow of thanks from where she slumped.

The others joined them; Ikkaku was griping, "Renji got hugged, Shuuhei got _straddled_. Where's my sugar? Where is it?"

Orihime leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his bald pate; he pinkened and touched a hand to the place she'd kissed while Renji and Shuuhei hooted. Byakuya stared stonily at her until she felt compelled to at least try to control her giggles (though she failed). She felt... happy. She'd worried about making friends to replace the ones she'd left behind in the living world, but here she was, feeling like she'd found a place where she belonged.

"Byakuya-sama, if we're done with our first lesson, I am going to go back to the estate," she said, drawing his (and everyone else's) attention. "Will you be returning soon as well, for the rest of your day off?"

The others all turned to look at him, amazement evident in how slowly they swiveled their heads. "We're taking a day off?" Renji demanded, incredulous, joy beginning to dawn on his tattooed features.

"_I_ am taking a day off; _you_ will be returning to your duties forthwith," Byakuya informed him with restrained glee as Renji's face fell. Schadenfreude was practically the only fun he had anymore.

Renji glowered; one could almost see the storm clouds gathering overhead.

"Ahaha," said Orihime, trying to defuse the tension. "I'll see everyone later, then? Thanks for helping!" She stood and fired herself in the direction of the Kuchiki estate with a wobbly flash-step that only took her to the middle of the practice yard. "Ahaha," she said again, trying once more. This time, she managed to make it to the roof of a neighboring building. "I did it!" she shouted to them, waving happily. Her smile was evident even at that distance. Rukia waved back feebly, and Orihime took her third flash-step and disappeared, hopefully not into a wall or a tree.

"A day off," Rukia marveled. "What will you do with it, Nii-sama?"

"I have not decided," he replied, "but I had thought some reading, perhaps a soak in the onsen..." He noted, at this point, Renji's dejected expression, and felt an odd sensation in his chest, at first mistaken for indigestion- had he eaten something odd for breakfast?- before he realized it was pity. "You may leave as soon as you have completed any paperwork that is due tomorrow," he told his lieutenant in an uncharacteristic display of benevolence.

Renji's face lit up as if fireworks had gone off inside his empty head. "Thanks, Kuchiki-taichou!" he exclaimed, and flash-stepped out of sight, presumably back to his office to do his usual slapdash job on the aforementioned paperwork.

"I believe the rest of you have your own divisions to plague," he murmured, eyes closed, and waited for the reiatsu of Hisagi and Madarame to dissipate with their departure.

Rukia, however, was still present when he opened them again. "Yes?" he said in response to her questioning glance.

"I'm... I'm glad you're getting along with Orihime-chan," she said quickly. "I had worried."

He lifted a brow. "You thought I would not be able to comport myself appropriately around your friend?"

Rukia blanched. "No, no! I know Nii-sama knows how to behave around anyone, no matter who!" He wondered if she would ever, in either of their lifetimes, realize when he was teasing her, and how much he enjoyed it. Resolutely, she plowed on. "I just worried that... well, Orihime-chan is a very, uh, friendly and talkative person. And I know that Nii-sama has a very limited amount of patience for people who are too noisy or overfamiliar."

"Hn," he said. What he thought was, _Orihime is not as noisy as you think, _and then, _Why am I not more irritated by how overfamiliar Orihime has been? _Because yes, she had committed both of those infractions in his presence. Yet instead of irritation, he reacted with a sort of indulgent amusement, and wondered why that was.

"It's fine," he finally told Rukia, because it was. Fine. He might actually be having fun, enduring Orihime's blithe prattlings and odd ideas. She seemed to actually _like _him, and it was nice to be liked. He was usually either adored, as by Rukia; deferred to, as by the clan officials and other nobility; or tolerated as a humorless stick, as by most of the Gotei 13. Until they needed his expertise at fighting, and then he was much in demand. He doubted there were many who would miss him, should his final day arrive, once he was gone.

Except Orihime. He could well imagine _her _missing him. He could imagine her putting a little picture of him on the shelf beside the photo of her precious Sora-nii-chan, could almost hear her chattering of her day's activities to her brother and himself. The mental image he formed of it made him feel unaccountably lonely.

"It's fine," he repeated. "Go back to your division."

She nodded uncertainly, and flash-stepped away. Byakuya was none too certain himself, especially about what to do with himself for the rest of the day.

Whatever fledgling ideas he might have entertained, they were all irrelevant because upon his return home, he was met by a servant trying unsuccessfully to keep from grinning. "Kuchiki-sama, I have been instructed by Inoue-san to request that you to change from your shihakusho and then meet her at the clearing in The Thicket."

The Thicket was a small copse of original-growth trees, miraculously left standing over the millenia of stewardship by Kuchikis, by the far bend of the river that passed through the estate grounds. Generations of Kuchiki brats had whiled away the steamy summer days under their cool, shading branches; had shimmied up their trunks and swung like monkeys out over the river (until their parents and the clan elders had wrung all the life and juice out of them, that is). Byakuya himself had passed many a youthful summer playing there; even as a young adult, he'd practiced his shunpou there because avoiding smashing headfirst into the trees was an excellent way of learning agility and how to shift on a dime while flash-stepping.

He had no idea what she was doing there, or why she wanted him to meet her. He was vaguely impressed she'd even found the place at all- she must be quite committed to rambling around and exploring his home. He doubted Rukia even knew The Thicket existed.

"Hn," was his response, and he ambled off to his room to change. It occurred to him that he could refuse to play along, could indeed simply ignore her instructions and spend the day as he wished.

...except his own half-formed plan to do some calligraphy (again) and stroll about the pond (again) now seemed deadly boring. Whatever she had in store for him, it had to be at least a little more interesting than that.

After peeling off the multiple layers of haori, kosode, shitagi, and hakama, Byakuya enjoyed the sensation of air on his skin before donning a blue and rust-brown print yukata. It was so warm, his hair had stuck to his forehead, so he fastened it back in a ponytail and immediately felt cooler. His stomach rumbled, and he hoped that whatever fresh hell Orihime had planned, it would at some point include feeding him.

A flash-step or two brought him to The Thicket. Byakuya could feel Orihime's reiatsu within. He followed it to the clearing at the center, and blinked at what he saw.

Orihime stood, in a yukata of her own (spring green, with a pnk obi), with her hands clasped tightly before her as she beamed at him. A blanket had been laid out over the ground at the base of the largest, leafiest tree, and upon it was spread a veritable feast complete with china, lacquered chopsticks, and crystal glasses.

"You wouldn't believe how many trips it took me to get all this stuff here," she announced happily. "I was worried I wouldn't have it ready by the time you arrived."

"Why didn't you have the servants bring it?" he asked distractedly, focusing on the mundane while his brain tried to figure out why she had done this- mostly he was baffled that she would think he'd ever, in a million years, want to have a picnic, but a significant part was also musing about the reason she'd go to such trouble for him. Not that he didn't enjoy being fussed over, it was just puzzling, to be fussed over by someone he barely knew.

"Oh, it's nothing," Orihime said, waving her hands a little. "I didn't want to bother them."

He turned from inspecting the repast on the blanket to give her a look. "They're _servants_. They like nothing better than to be bothered."

She just laughed. "It's nothing," she repeated. "I really didn't mind." She approached him and took his arm, as if he didn't intimidate her at all. He supposed that after a morning spent slamming into him at significant velocity while they trained for shunpou, it was hard to be intimidated any longer. "C'mon, I bet you're hungry. I sure am. Let's eat!"

Well. He _was _hungry.

Byakuya allowed her to draw him over to the blanket, and seated himself on the ground at one of the place settings. Orihime began to fill his plate with a dozen different delicacies, which he recognized as resembling his favorite foods (though not looking like the fastidious caliber of the dishes he was used to having from his kitchens). Everything tasted good, however. He'd plowed halfway through his plate before he realized Orihime was watching him with a sort of fiercely pleased approval. She looked... proprietary. And anxious.

"You made everything yourself, didn't you?" he asked, after a sip of cool tea.

"Yes! How is it?"

And because Byakuya was honest, if not terribly diplomatic (to the despair of the clan elders, always), he replied, "Its appearance is not up to usual standards, but it tastes good."

Orihime's face fell for a second, but then she laughed. "I can always count on you for the truth, eh, Byakuya-sama?"

Of course she could; what a ludicrous, entirely obvious thing to say. Byakuya popped a tiny, spicy meatball into his mouth with his chopsticks and pondered what she meant.

_Oh._

He'd been rude. Fortunately, she seemed not to mind overmuch; she was eating her own meal with gusto, looking at their bucolic surroundings with apparent delight.

"Is this picnic the sole point of meeting here?" he asked once he was putting his empty plate down on the blanket. "Or do you have more festivities planned?"

She swallowed her mouthful and grinned. "I thought we could play around with our zanpakutous, like we discussed yesterday. You can try to get out of my pyramid... container... shield... thingy."

"Hn," he replied, a sound of complete lack of commitment in either direction.

"We'll see how it goes," Orihime said delicately, clearly picking up on his ambivalence. Still, she seemed optimistic. The girl was unsinkable.

They finished their meals in silence, Byakuya handing over his empty plate and silverware and holding out his glass for more tea. Orihime dutifully refilled it, then leaned back on her hands to survey the fluffy clouds skidding across the sky overhead, giving the impression of utter disinterest. When he was done with his tea, she even refrained from watching as he replaced the glass and took up a napkin to pat his lips, then placed the cloth to the side. He decided to be kind to her, since she was doing such a _good _impression of not harassing him.

"If you're ready?" he said, standing, and she nearly blinded him with her beaming smile. They stood and ambled away from the blanket and each other.

"I'll cast the pyramid around you, then I thought you could start with just blasting your reiatsu, then going into shikai, then into bankai," Orihime said, eyes shining and face eager. "That's if you don't destroy it immediately. Let's hope it lasts more than a few seconds!" Byakuya nodded.

Orihime glanced over to the blanket, where her zanpakutou lay by the basket of food. Then, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she said, "_Shiten Fukumushun_! Four sacred containing shield, I reject!"

Sparks of light sprang into existence and zipped over to Byakuya, where they formed the four points of a golden pyramid around his person.

Byakuya reached out and touched his fingertips to the glowing barrier surrounding him. There was no pain, just a sense of solidity. Though he could see through it, as if it were stained glass, it was as if he were touching a solid, impenetrable wall. He loosened the control he kept over his reiatsu most of the time until it was freely blazing from him like heat from a furnace, and felt the pyramid's walls shiver in response. Still, they held.

Next, he unsheathed his sword and gave the barrier a few experimental whacks, starting off gently and building up to using the full extent of his physical force and his breath was coming a bit faster. Little bursts of golden sparks flew whenever his blade made contact, but the pyramid still showed no signs of weakening.

"_Chire, Zenbonzakura_," he said. When his blade dissolved into its million petal-like shards, he spun them in a flurry and bashed them against the barrier. He could sense it flexing to contain his weapon, and on the other side, Orihime was frowning in concentration, but the pyramid held. Byakuya was impressed in spite of himself. He struck with shikai a half-dozen times, at full force, until he was convinced that he was well and truly unable to break it, and thus ready to move on.

He dropped his sword into the ground and said, "Bankai." The immense size of the Senkei form of his bankai, the rows of glowing swords, forced the pyramid's size to explode outward, becoming the size of a large building. Orihime eeped and danced backwards to avoid being hit by the rapidly expanding container. The walls were shivering in reaction to the battering of his reiatsu, and he suspected the pyramid would not last much longer.

"_Chire, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi_."

That did it; the reiatsu released by the bursting of the thousands of swords into trillions of tiny blades was a detonation. The pyramid's walls shattered with a sound like a thousand breaking windows. He retracted them immediately, containing his bankai back into its unreleased katana form before he could cause any harm to Orihime or the nearby landscape.

Orihime bounded up to him, her sword glowing faintly before fading. "That was amazing!" she exclaimed. "A little depressing, though, to see it fall apart so easily. I'll have to work very hard to make it strong enough to contain it."

He glanced at her while resheathing Senbonzakura. "My bankai is immensely powerful; there was never a question that the pyramid would not contain any type of attack from it. You should feel proud the pyramid not only held but expanded when I went into bankai. Or that it withstood shikai in the first place."

She paused a moment, processing his words, before saying, "Is that what is known as a backhanded compliment?"

Byakuya almost smirked. "I think the phrase you're looking for is 'damned by faint praise'."

Orihime laughed. "Well, just you wait, I'm going to practice and practice, and next time, you'll have to actually _try _before you break it!"

"Shall I hold my breath, then?" he murmured, and she laughed again.

"Yes, please do! If you're unconscious, I might have a chance at winning!"

"That would be your _only _chance at winning."

This... was fun. It was _fun _to be able to engage in verbal play with another person. Most people were so sensitive that they soon became offended but Orihime seemed completely bulletproof against the sarcastic little barbs he found so amusing. It was a credit to her sense of humility that she could see the humor inherent in the question of a test of skills and power between them. Byakuya himself was honest enough to admit (though only in his own mind) that he likely would not be as easygoing were he to be the recipient of said teasing. He was aware that the issue of pride was a touchy subject for him.

Back at the blanket, he refused her offer of more food, though he did accept another glass of cool tea.

"Sit, sit," Orihime urged. She dug in one of the baskets ranged around the blanket and unearthed a book, handing it to him with a flourish. "I think this is the poetry you were reading a few days ago, before all those letters arrived and you had to answer them." She plumped herself down on the other side of the blanket and fished her embroidery from the basket. "We have at least an hour before the sun shifts and this tree won't keep the sun off us anymore, so let's take advantage!" And she bent her bright head over the hoop and began to sew.

Byakuya looked down at the book; it was a slim volume of _tanka_, or five-line poetry. He'd been trying to get through it for over a month, but clan business lately had kept him too busy to spare much time for it. He opened it, riffling the leaves with his fingertips, letting it fall open in his hands where it might, and read the poem that revealed itself thusly.

I loathe the twin seas

Of being and not being

And long for the mountain

Of bliss untouched by

The changing tides.

Hm, yes. Quite. Sometimes it felt like Byakuya had been striving his entire life for equanimity. All he'd ever really achieved, however, was an excellent imitation of it. He sighed and flipped a page.

Her bracelets tinkle

Her anklets clink

She sways at her clattering loom

She hurries to have a new

Obi ready when he comes.

That reminded him of Orihime, rushing about after their lesson to prepare this picnic for him. He steadfastly ignored the implication of the woman wanting a new obi with which to look enticing for her soon-arriving lover, and read the next poem.

On Komochi Mountain

From the time the young leaves sprout

Until they turn red

I think I would like to sleep with you.

What do you think of that?

No ignoring the suggestiveness of that. Byakuya found his eyes flicking to where Orihime sat, her head bent over her sewing, neck a graceful, pale arch. No good could come of this, he was certain, yet still he turned the page.

Shall we stay in the

House to make love, when over

The grasses of Inami Moor

There glows the moon-filled night?

An image of bodies entwined as long grass whispered around them, the moon shining bright and the sky immense overhead, flickered maddeningly through Byakuya's head. He was not a stranger to the odd erotic thought; he was a young, healthy man with all the normal urges. It was just that usually, his partner in his little fantasies resembled the slight form and dark coloring of his deceased wife, and this time, she had been of a more... robust build, and her hair was a bright, coppery brown... Byakuya hastily flipped to the next poem.

I do not care if

Our lovemaking is as exposed

As the rainbow over

The Yasaka dam at Ikaho

If only I can suck and suck you.

Byakuya slammed the book shut and tossed it across the blanket, in the general direction of the basket in which Orihime had transported it to the picnic site. She lifted her attention from the embroidery hoop, her eyes big and startled.

"Byakuya-sama?" she inquired. "Something wrong with the book?"

"No," he said faintly, and did not elaborate. He felt a prickle of sweat along his hairline. He stood and made his way to the river, aware of her gaze following him in puzzlement. Cupped hands brought cool water to his face, splashing several times, uncaring that he was dampening his yukata. Summer was in full extension, now, and the sky was a bright, clear blue. There was a hard quality to the force of the heat beating down on them. He was very conscious of the chirping and buzzing of birds and insects as his feet sank into the moist sand of the riverbank.

"What a good idea," said Orihime, crouching beside him, her hands trailing in lazy swirls through the water before patting the moisture on her own heat-flushed face. His gaze followed the path of a rogue droplet as it traced a leisurely path down her throat into the shadowed valley of her cleavage, only barely visible above the neckline of her kimono.

_Impossible_. The most he would permit himself with this woman was friendship. He was even amazed he would concede that much to her. Byakuya was reminded of a poem he'd long ago memorized, after Hisana had died and life seemed an endless gray stretch before him.

Better never to have

Met you in my dream

Than to wake and reach

For hands that are not there.

He would never again open himself to the derision of the clan elders and members of other noble houses by fraternizing with a commoner. He would never again reveal the tender recesses of his heart, only to feel them shredded and torn when it ended. It was imperative that he put distance between them.

"I have clan business that requires my attention," he said, and before Orihime could respond, Byakuya flash-stepped back to the house.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for your kind reviews! I'm so pleased you're enjoying the (admittedly slow) progression of... something... between Orihime and our Bya-bo. It has to be done so carefully to be credible, IMO, so please bear with me if it seems like the pacing crawls a bit. **

**This chapter is a bit of comic relief- I don't want the whole story to be nothing but gut-wrenching deep emotion and soul-bearing introspection. Gets me depressed. **

**sardonicis imperfecta: No, those are actual period poems I, uh, stole from somewhere online. I wish I were talented enough to come up with something like that myself! **

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 8**

Orihime was puzzled by Byakuya's abrupt departure from the riverside on that hot afternoon. Had she done something to offend him? She'd been too familiar, that was probably it. She'd only been trying to give him a nice relaxing afternoon free of work and care, in return for his many kindnesses since her death, but somewhere she'd miscalculated his tolerance of her and gone too far. Though Byakuya hadn't really changed in how he treated her- he was still his usual stoic and unemotive self whenever she saw him- it made her very sad, and she threw herself into establishing her psychiatric practice to distract herself from her regret.

By the end of her third week of the afterlife, Orihime had met several with both Kira and Hinamori for therapeutic sessions. He had severe depression and burgeoning alcoholism; she suffered post-traumatic stress disorder and had confided that she still had trouble even looking at Hitsugaya Toushirou after he'd stabbed her while under the delusion of Aizen's hypnotic sword.

Orihime had devised treatment plans for both that seemed promising, and was thrilled to be able to start working again (carefully ignoring the fact that she wasn't getting paid and nothing else was settled) but personally speaking, she was homesick for modern life, and longing for Tatsuki and the others.

"Rukia-chan," she began, one evening during dinner with the Kuchiki siblings, "how much would I have to beg Ukitaki-taichou to get him to open the Senkaimon for me?"

Rukia gave her a sympathetic smile. "You miss them a lot, hm?" She paused. "But I'm not sure we have to involve Ukitake-taichou with this." Her eyes flicked toward her brother.

Orihime noted the glance at Byakuya; she looked his way herself, brow creasing in puzzlement. "Could... Byakuya-sama perhaps put in a good word for me?" she asked slowly, guessing at what Rukia meant. Would he help her? Had she irreparably damaged whatever headway she'd made toward establishing a friendship with him?

He ignored her, meeting Rukia's gaze with his own. They appeared to have an entire conversation via telepathy, because after a few moments of staring at each other, he nodded, and the pleasure on Rukia's face told Orihime that she, at least, had some inkling of what they were discussing.

Then they returned to their respective meals.

"Um," said Orihime. They glanced up, chopsticks in mid-air. "What just happened?"

Rukia grinned. "Nii-sama will permit you to use our private Senkaimon. I'll assign a butterfly to you so you can avoid the Dangai, and teach you how to use your zanpakutou to open the Senkaimon again when you want to return."

"Oh! Great!" Orihime had no idea how that much information had been passed between them without words, but she wasn't going to quibble if it meant she got to return to the living world and see her friends again. She bowed deeply to each in gratitude. "Thank you, Rukia-chan! Thank you, Byakuya-sama!"

And so the next morning had Rukia seeing Orihime into the Senkaimon with her own personal hell butterfly, or _jigokuchou_, to accompany her back to Karakura Town.

"You'll exit at Urahara's shop," said Rukia. She handed over an envelope, in which was two pages of paper and a wad of money. "Here's a list of things requested by Unohana-taichou for a women's health class she'll be presenting to the Shinigami Women's Association. I was supposed to pick it all up the next time I went through, but since you're going sooner than me, would you mind?"

"No, not at all!" Orihime was very happy to run errands for her friend. She impulsively hugged Rukia. "Thanks again! I'll be back tomorrow!"

She stepped through and was surprised to find that, unlike the Dangai's dark, cavelike interior, the Senkaimon looked like a regular waiting room, each side lined with plain shoji screens. But the utter emptiness and stillness made her happy the butterfly was accompanying her so she wasn't completely alone, no matter that it was just an insect. She didn't have the best memories of travelling between worlds.

"So, butterfly-san, you're mine forever now, is that how it goes?" she muttered, more to keep her mind off the ghosts of the past than anything else. "Should I give you a name?" Silence, but Orihime hadn't really expected an answer. "Hey, why do you need an official senkaimon in Soul Society to get to the living world, but to return, you just need to use your zanpakutou like a key?" More silence. She made a mental note to ask a someone who might know, later.

After a few minutes of walking, her footsteps echoing quietly, Orihime was very glad to see the round glow up ahead that signified the exit. When the two sets of doors parted, she could see the desert landscape of the basement of Urahara Shouten on the far side. She stepped out onto the sandy floor and, thanking Byakuya for teaching her shunpou, flash-stepped over to and up the long ladder leading upstairs in mere seconds.

"Hello?" she called down the empty hallway. "Anyone here?" She poked her head out the door leading to the shop area, through which she could see the two youngsters who lived with Urahara Kisuke Ururu was sweeping while Jinta lounged on the porch, picking his nose. Both looked up at the advent of the Senkaimon doors, and blinked in surprise when Orihime stepped through.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully. "Anyone home? No one answered when I yelled out, before..."

"Huh. He's probably in his lab. I'll go get him," said Jinta, and disappeared past her into the building.

"Hi, Ururu-chan!" said Orihime once the two girls were alone.

"..." said Ururu. She wasn't much for chatting.

Orihime took the hint and sat on the edge of the porch to wait. Urahara and Tessai appeared a few moments later, to her relief.

"Inoue-san!" Urahara exclaimed, seeming delighted to see her. "I was sad to hear of your passing. But look at you! You're as lovely as always."

"Ahaha, thank you, Urahara-san," Orihime said, uncomfortable as ever with blatant compliments. "I was wondering, do you have a gigai I could borrow for the day?"

"For you? Of course! Come in, come in!" He ushered her through the store's dingy interior to the living quarters in back. "Sit, relax. Tessai-san, some tea?"

"Coming right up," rumbled Tessai.

"I'll be back with a gigai for you in just a second," he began, but Orihime interrupted apologetically.

"Do you happen to have one that won't adapt to my appearance and look like me?" she asked. "A lot of people know me in town, and would get upset to see me walking around a few weeks after I died."

Urahara's face lit up. "How clever of you to think of that! Hm! Give me a few minutes!" And he disappeared down the hallway.

Tessai arrived with the tea; he, Ururu, and Jinta joined her at the low table and they sipped in silence for a few minutes.

"Where's Yoruichi-san?" Orihime asked at one point.

"On walkabout," replied Jinta, and they fell quiet once more. There wasn't a lot to say.

"Here we go, Inoue-san!" Urahara exclaimed as he returned, a gigai hanging limply under his arm. "I had to give it something to go on, so when you step into it, you'll look like me. If I were a woman." He grinned as the others stared at him in something akin to horror. "I can't wait to see how I look."

Orihime suppressed a sigh and stood up, walking toward where he was holding the gigai out and shaking it in enticement. She had nothing to complain about; she should have been more specific. With Urahara Kisuke, there was no end to the possibilities of weirdness.

"Just push yourself into it like it's a big animal suit," he advised. "Step into the legs like they're trousers, yes, like that. Now pull it up to your waist... slide your arms in... now your head."

Orihime felt like she was wearing a full-body wet suit; the gigai was very clingy and constraining and she now knew why Rukia and Renji were always complaining about what they were like. She already couldn't wait to get out of it. "Where's a mirror?" she asked, and Ururu led her to a bathroom.

"Ah! Wow! I'm a pretty sexy woman! Disappointed about the tiny boobs, but I have an _amazing _ass! And look at those legs, Tessai! I am a _fox_!"

The mirror showed Orihime a young woman of slender build ("Oy, you made her tits disappear! Are you stupid?" - Jinta) with ash-blonde hair falling to her shoulders in a choppy bob. Big grey eyes and a pretty face completed the picture. She was disconcertingly Caucasian, and that would take some getting used to, but otherwise, she had no real complaints beside what she was wearing- Urahara had her in some low-cut, miniskirted hoochie outfit better suited for a hostess at a men's club than walking around in broad daylight. First order of business: get some regular clothes.

"If anyone asks, you can tell them you're my little sister," Urahara told her, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Urahara Kimiko, tell 'em that!"

Orihime would not tell anyone anything of the sort, and barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. "Is there anything else I can wear? This is..."

"Horrible," intoned Ururu, speaking for the first time. "Follow me."

Ururu led Orihime to her bedroom and dug some garments out of the drawers. The skirt, meant to be shin-length on Ururu, came above the knee on Orihime, and the blouse would never have fit her actual body with its abundant charms, but on this new, flatter chest it fit perfectly. None of Ururu's shoes were big enough, however, so Orihime was stuck with the hooker stilettos until she could arrange for something else.

They emerged to the main room again and Orihime bowed to Urahara. "Thank you, Urahara-san," she said politely. "I will return it tomorrow, if that's okay?"

"Or the next day, whenever," he replied, waving a negligent hand. "Just have fun with it!"

She did not want to know what he had in mind, and just nodded. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Oh, wait! I almost forgot." He handed her a small, shiny keychain, at the end of which dangled an enamelled, flaming skull: the very same image as that imprinted on Ichigo's substitute shinigami badge. "In case you have to get out of the gigai in a hurry."

"Ah, thanks!" Orihime slipped it into her pocket and hurried out. It was almost five o'clock; her friends would all be getting out of work within the next hour or two. She wondered if they could get together for dinner, perhaps? It would be so nice to see everyone again, and make sure they knew she wasn't gone forever. Not for the first time, she felt a deep gratitude toward Rukia for making it possible for her to keep her friends, even when she hadn't been sure she wanted to.

Orihime hadn't gotten more than one block down the street before she became aware that the hooker shoes (hot-pink sequined platform affairs with towering, clear acrylic heels) were rubbing blisters on her toes. Better than going barefoot, though, she told herself.

She hadn't made it another block before she felt Ichigo's oppressive reiatsu barrelling toward her. He skidded around a corner, eyes darting everywhere at once, clearly searching for the friend whose reiatsu he recognized. His gaze slid past her, stopped, then returned. He stared at her in speculation for a moment, lingering on the shoes, before continuing to scope out the people on the street in search of 'Orihime'. When he couldn't find the usual buxom girl with chestnut hair, he scowled in confusion.

"Kurosaki-kun," she called to him. His attention whipped back to her, and his stare was like a laser piercing through her. He jogged over and inspected her from head to toe (especially toe) before saying, cautiously, "Inoue?"

"I'm in a gigai," she whispered, glancing around first to make sure no one else was close enough to hear the oddness of their conversation. "Urahara-san made it look like if he were a woman."

Ichigo's scowl deepened. "That pervert," he grumbled. Orihime was inclined to agree.

Another reiatsu was heading their way; they both peered around at the same time as they recognized Ishida Uryuu approaching.

"Let's see how long it takes him to get it," Ichigo said with a little grin.

Orihime had to shake her head; the competition between the two was still going strong, even after a decade. "He's smarter than the two of us put together," she said. "He'll know right away."

Uryuu walked around the corner by where Orihime had come from Urahara's; he saw Ichigo and an unknown woman and without a moment's pause smiled.

"See?" she said, smiling back and waving as he approached them. Ichigo made a cranky huff and frowned at the newcomer.

"I had wondered if your gigai would look like you or someone else," said Uryuu by way of greeting once he reached them. "I'm glad you realized you couldn't keep looking like yourself, but a blonde Yankee?"

Orihime explained about Urahara's little tweak to the gigai. Uryuu too was of the opinion that the shopkeeper was a deviant. "It explains the shoes," he commented.

"You should have seen the outfit I was wearing before," she replied with a laugh, and plucked at her t-shirt and skirt. "I had to borrow these from Ururu-chan, but there were no other shoes... my feet are killing me."

Ichigo immediately turned and crouched, offering her his back. "I have to get back soon," he said, "but hop on. I'll take you to Tatsuki's. That's where you're headed, right?"

Orihime shot him a worried glance, feeling the old nervousness rear its unwelcome head. _Oh, stop it, _she told herself severely. _You swore him off years ago._ "Uh, if you're sure..." she said hesitantly.

"C'mon," he said, and she carefully climbed onto his back, looping her arms around his neck. He grabbed her legs behind the knees and stood to his full height once he was sure she was secure.

"I have to get back, too," said Uryuu. His position as a highly-acclaimed young architect was something he was very proud of, and she knew he didn't want to jeopardize it. She was touched he'd left his office, probably at a dead run, when he'd noticed her reiatsu had appeared in Karakura Town.

Orihime reach out and squeezed his hand. "Let's all get together tonight for dinner?"

He nodded and flashed her a quick smile. "I'll call when I get out of work."

They parted ways, heading in different directions. Orihime could think of nothing to say to Ichigo and was rather shocked to realized she didn't feel too compelled to force conversation, not like how it used to be, back before she'd given up on him. It occurred to her that this might be the first time she was actually comfortable in his presence. The fact that it was while she was riding on his back, arms and legs wrapped around him, almost had her laughing at just how absurd she was.

"How're things in Soul Society?" he asked after walking a few blocks.

"Pretty good," Orihime replied, propping her chin on his shoulder. "Byakuya-sama has been kind enough to let me stay on the Kuchiki estate until things are settled."

He glanced over at her. "What needs to be settled?"

"I have a zanpakutou," she explained, "so I'm going to be a shinigami. I just don't know how it's going to happen. Will I go to the academy? Which division will I join? What about my dream of opening a psychiatric practice, do I try to still do that or let it go and aim for something else?" She heaved a gusty sigh. "There's a lot to be decided, which is a little annoying, because I thought I'd finally figured out what I was doing with myself, and then this."

"Yeah." Ichigo wasn't one for platitudes. "Whatever you decide, I know it'll work out for you."

Orihime was touched, and have his neck a little squeeze. "Thanks, Kurosaki-kun."

He wheezed. "Loosen up, Inoue! You're strangling me!"

She was not; he was just buffooning around. Orihime laughed and released her grip. "You going to come to dinner with us tonight?"

"If I can."

Tatsuki's dojo was just up ahead; Orihime could feel her friend's faint reiatsu within. At the door, she tried to get Ichigo to put her down but he refused.

"If you don't have a dozen blisters by now, you'll break an ankle," he said, and insisted on carrying her all the way up to Tatsuki's office. They were only halfway up the stairs when the door above was flung open and Tatsuki herself ran out.

"Ichigo! Orihi... me...?" She trailed off when the woman she saw before her was not her familiar busty friend but a blonde stranger. She frowned and looked to Ichigo. "It feels like her, but..."

"It's me, Tatsuki-chan!" said Orihime, and thumped Ichigo lightly on the shoulder so he'd let her down. Once back on her own two tackily-shod feet, she bounded to Tatsuki and enveloped her in a bear hug. "I'm in a gigai. I can't look like myself because people who know I died would freak out. Hi! I've missed you!"

Tatsuki hugged her back with ferocious strength. "I missed you too. Why was Ichigo carrying you? And what the hell are on your feet?"

Ichigo barked a laugh. "I gotta go. See you tonight, if I can. I'll call." He nodded to Tatsuki, and loped away down the stairs.

Tatsuki stepped back and ran a discerning eye over Orihime's gigai and what it was wearing. "Weird to see you titless," she said bluntly.

"I know, right?" Orihime gazed down at herself. "I can actually see my own feet." She paused. "Wish I couldn't."

"Yeah, those shoes are the pits. Were you expecting to pick up some extra money on a street corner?"

"Until I get a job, I gotta bring in the cash somehow," Orihime joked back, and they cackled. "But seriously. I can live with these clothes, but the shoes have to go. Do you have anything I can wear? And when do you get out of here? Can you leave early?" She pulled the envelope with Rukia's list from the skirt pocket. "I have to run a few errands for Rukia-chan, pick up some things for Rangiku-chan and the Women's Association. You should come with me."

"Sure, sure." Tatsuki darted back into her office and came out with a pair of plain brown flats, which Orihime gratefully stepped into after removing the hated pink stilettos. Then Tatsuki led the way down the stairs and into one of the practice rooms, where she had a few words with the class instructor.

"I'm free, let's go!" she said, and they left the dojo, aiming for the downtown shopping center. They walked in silence for a while, Tatsuki striding easily with her hands jammed in her pockets.

"How've you been, Tatsuki-chan?" Orihime ventured after a minute. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you, too," Tatsuki replied quietly. "Seeing you again... helps. If I couldn't ever see you again... that would kill me." She squinted and stared pointedly away from her friend, and Orihime knew she was trying to conceal tears.

"I'll come visit as much as I can," she promised. "The Kuchikis have their own private Senkaimon, and I have my own butterfly now! And I think I can convince Byakuya-sama to let me use it pretty often, so I will be back all the time. Just wait, you'll be sick of me in a few months!"

Tatsuki looked a little lost. "...I don't know what a Senkaimon is, or what butterflies have to do with anything. But if it means you can come back, I'm all for it." Her cell phone rang then. As she answered it, Orihime removed the first page of the shopping list from the envelope and studied it.

Tatsuki snapped the phone closed. "Ichigo called Mizuiro, who called Chizuru. Ishida called Sado. They all want to meet at that okonomiyaki place in the Komatsu part of town after seven."

Orihime didn't look up from the list. "We should be able to get Rangiku-chan's cosmetics before then, and we can finish up with the stuff Unohana-taichou wants after we eat. Rangiku-chan wants some CDs, too, so maybe the boys will want to come along for that." She refolded the list and replaced it in her pocket, then clasped her hands behind her back and gazed up at the darkening sky. "Feels weird to be back," she said. "The air smells funny, and the cars seem so _fast_."

"Because you're living in the Edo period in Soul Society," Tatsuki replied. "I'd love to see what that's like, sometimes, but then I remember that to see it I'll have to die, and I'm not quite ready for that yet."

"Who is?" asked Orihime, feeling a pang of sadness. She certainly hadn't been ready. Still wasn't, not that she had any choice in the matter. "But it's really not bad at all. Much cleaner. I'll get more used to it soon, I'm sure." She sighed. "How much do I sound like I'm trying to convince myself?"

"A lot," said Tatsuki with a laugh, and bumped her shoulder into Orihime's. "Don't get mopey. There's the drug store. Let's go load up. Rangiku-chan; she's the busty blonde, right? She's gorgeous, what does she need so much makeup for?"

"When I asked her that, she said the reason she was so gorgeous was _because _of all the makeup, and I should be glad I've never had to see her first thing in the morning after a three-day bender."

They went in and hurried to get everything on Rangiku's list in time for meeting the others at the restaurant. The bag, when they exited, was full to the brim and very heavy; Orihime let Tatsuki carry it and as soon as they spotted distinctive orange hair among the people milling along the street, Tatsuki targeted Ichigo and foisted the sack on him. He, in turn, gave it to Sado as soon as he arrived.

They bustled inside the restaurant; Mizuiro, Chizuru, and Uryuu were already at a table with their ingredients. Uryuu was whisking his together with brisk efficiency; he'd already seen the 'new' Orihime but the the others were confused until explanations were made.

"Are you sure she's our Hime-chan?" Chizuru asked doubtfully, poking a finger into Orihime's B-cup breast with a displeased frown.

"This is a good look, too," Mizuiro said diplomatically. He had no problems with Orihime's new appearance; he had always been partial to blondes.

Everyone jammed around the table, and the cooking began. It was messy, and crowded, and noisy, and huge fun.

"Kurosaki, yours looks like it was just flushed down a toilet," said Uryuu, expertly flipping his okonomiyaki over. "I don't know how you can eat it." Ichigo just jammed in another bite and grinned around his mouthful.

"Too much mayonnaise, Sado-kun, too much!" Chizuru protested as he squirted a complicated pattern on top of her okonomiyaki. "I'll barf!"

Afterwards, everyone decided they wanted to go to the music store with Orihime and Tatsuki. "What else is on that list?" asked Chizuru as they walked, snatching it from Orihime's hand and scanning the first, then the second, page. Her eyes widened almost comically, and she hooted with delight.

"I know the best store for this stuff," she informed them seriously, with a hard gleam in her eye. "You just leave eeeeeeeverything to me."

Anything that Chizuru was an expert on would give any sane person reason for suspicion. Being very sane, Tatsuki snatched the list back and as her eyes flew down the words, they grew wider and more horrified. "Orihime," she whispered, "tell me you haven't read page two."

"I haven't read page two," Orihime said obediently, mostly because she hadn't. "What's on it? I thought it would be medical supplies or something, since it's for Unohana-taichou."

Tatsuki looked up from the list, her face bleak. "No," she said. "It's not." And she handed it over.

Orihime had to read it twice, because she couldn't believe her eyes after the first pass. "Oh," she said once she'd processed and accepted that it really said what she thought. "Oh, my."

Ichigo plucked the paper from her limp fingers. He began to blush from the first item, and only grew more and more purple as the list went on.

Uryuu had lost the last of his patience. He took the list and scanned it quickly. To his credit, his only reaction was to blink rapidly several times before saying, "Somehow, Chizuru-san, I am unsurprised that you know exactly how to obtain these items."

Mizuiro took the list from Uryuu, read it, and burst out laughing. "I don't know about you guys," he said to the other men, "but I'm going with them. I wouldn't miss this for _anything_."

**The List**

5 dildoes (min. 6 inches long, various colors)

4 vibrators (prefer dual-headed, 'rabbit' type)

3 butt plugs (1 medium, 2 small)

3 stainless-steel cock rings (adjustable)

2 sets nipple clamps

1 spreader bar

1 suspension sling

3 set fake-fur-lined handcuffs (prefer leopard, will take tiger)

2 strap-on harnesses

9 bottles lubricant (not silicon)

1 pair shoulder-length fisting gloves (rubber, not latex)


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: I**** know it's been a minute since I posted the last chapter- I was moving, and then had to wait a bit for the internet to get installed. T****hank you to everyone for your patience! Now that I've moved and have the internet again, I should be able to keep posting on a regular basis. I**** have the rest of the story plotted out, and half of what's left is written already. **

******Thanks once again for your reviews! It helps me know if what I think is funny is actually funny (sometimes I can't tell, haha). I know sometimes it might feel like I'm going a little slow, but... this is Byakuya we're talking about. _Glaciers_ shift faster than that man. I just hope that I'm keeping it entertaining as I drag him into falling in love again. And keeping Orihime in character is a priority too, of course. Please let me know how I'm doing!**

******Oh, erm, yes, I'm taking a bit of liberty re: Orihime's interactions with Nnoitra in Hueco Mundo. You'll let it slide, yes?**

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 9**

"I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed in my entire life," complained Tatsuki as they walked toward her (formerly Orihime's) apartment. ("I've spent so much time in this dump, it already feels like home," was her explanation, along with a few strategic punches when accused of being overly sentimental).

"Me, either," agreed Orihime, trying to juggle the bags in her arms so they didn't ache so much at the weight of what she was carrying. Not for the first time, she was jealous of Tatsuki's superior strength. "Is my face still purple?"

Tatsuki glanced over at her friend's countenance. "It's only red now. In an hour, it'll be down to pink."

"I thought Kurosaki-kun was going to have an aneurism," Orihime said with a giggle. She would treasure his expression of horrified shock for the rest of her life.

"Uryuu took it all surprisingly in stride," Tatsuki commented. "Still waters run deep with that one."

"Oh, don't say things to make him sound all ominous and weird." Orihime nudged her shoulder into her friend's arm. "He just has better control over his exterior than most people. Like Byakuya-sama; he has reactions just like everyone else, he just hides them better."

"Whatever, whatever. I still think Uryuu's a closet perv," Tatsuki said with a yawn. "At least he keeps it hidden; Chizuru is so out-there I don't know whether to be grossed out or just exhausted by it."

"I'm a little of both." But there was a feeling prickling the edges of Orihime's psyche, and it was not nausea; it was that uneasy awareness of an approaching Hollow. "Oh, poop."

"Poop? Where?" The other girl looked around, wanting to make sure she didn't step in any, until she heard the telltale roar in the distance. "Oh."

Orihime was already looking around for somewhere to stash her bags and gigai; she fished the keychain out of her pocket and pressed it to her forehead. The gigai dropped to the ground like a rock, leaving Orihime standing there in her own body, wearing the shorts and t-shirt she'd had on when she'd left Soul Society. Thrust through her waistband was her zanpakuto, and she fingered the hilt for reassurance before turning to Tatsuki with a smile.

"Take care of our things while I kill it, okay, Tatsuki-chan? I think it's a weak one, it won't take long."

"Orihime-" began Tatsuki, who wanted to wait until the inevitable arrival of Ichigo or Uryuu, but Orihime was already gone, using her newfound shunpou ability to rocket skyward until she was level with the Hollow's head as it rounded the corner of a building, aimed right for them.

"Grawrrrrgh!" it bellowed, reaching out an immense, clawed hand to seize her petite body. Orihime flung out a hand, and her triangular shield exploded into existence right into the Hollow's path while Orihime flash-stepped clear of its grasp. A second later, it crashed into the shield, too slow to avoid it.

"Graughuuuh?" It shook its head, trying to clear away the fog from the collision, and turned-

-only to get split in half right down the middle, from head to crotch, as Orihime flung out her other hand and Tsubaki shot forward to do his thing.

"Graoooouuugh," it said, sounding mournful, as it dissolved into the clear night air.

The golden points of light that were Orihime's fairies zipped back to her zanpakutou, merging with it as she flash-stepped to her friend's side. "All done!" she said cheerfully.

"So weird to watch you do that," Tatsuki said, shaking her head in amazement. "You're like a superhero, now... zipping around in mid-air, killing Hollows like a boss... you don't even need a sword like Ichigo and the rest."

"It's no big deal!" protested Orihime. "Really! It's just that you're not used to it yet. I promise, one day you'll find it completely normal and hum-drum and think nothing of it."

"I doubt I'll ever get used to watching people walk on air and sword-fight monsters," snarked Tatsuki.

Orihime just grinned. "You should call Kurosaki-kun and Uryuu-kun so they don't waste their time coming."

Tatsuki huffed and handed over her phone. "You do it," she said, and set about gathering up their shopping bags.

"...had no trouble at all!" Orihime was saying into the phone as the other girl waddled over to her under the load of bags. "I just flash-stepped up into the sky- yes, Byakuya-sama taught me how! I'm getting pretty good! I haven't hit anything in _days_!- and _swhoosh_, I killed it! So we're fine here."

She grabbed the gigai with her free arm and started climbing into it again. "You'll text Uryuu-kun? Thanks, Kurosaki-kun! Sleep well!" After hanging up, she popped the phone into Tatsuki's jacket pocket and tugged the gigai up over her arms, then poked her head in, and suddenly the gigai _was _Orihime.

"Speaking of things it's hard to get used to," she said with a little shiver, then took some of the bags from her friend.

"You and me both," muttered Tatsuki. "It's just creepy."

Once they had arrived at the apartment, they dumped the bags in a corner (and covered them with a blanket, because Tatsuki didn't want to even accidentally clap eyes on any of the sex toys). Orihime shed her gigai once more, tucking it under the blanket with the sex toys, and collapsed on the ratty old couch next to her friend.

"So, seriously, what's been going on since you went to Soul Society?" Tatsuki asked. "You seem... different."

"Different?" squeaked Orihime. Her eyes darted from side to side as she tried to think of any ways she wasn't the same as before. "_How _different?"

"I don't know. You just seem... more relaxed. More confident. More adult, even. _That's _it; it feels like you've grown up a little more."

"Are you saying I was immature before, Tatsuki-chan?" Orihime asked sadly.

"No, no, not immature, just... you seem calmer, less girlish and more... womanly, I guess." Tatsuki shrugged and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the couch. "I don't know how to explain it. You know this sort of thing isn't my strong point."

"I suppose dying could do it," she continued. "Dying would make anyone feel less girlish, huh? But today you were way less spastic around Ichigo than before, and that's a good thing." She cracked open an eye and rolled her head toward Orihime. "It feels like you really have moved on from him."

Orihime tucked her knees up and rested her chin on them. "I think I have, too," she agreed thoughtfully. "I keep so busy, nowadays, that there's almost no time to moon over something that will never happen. But I feel more relaxed, too, because though I'm busy, it's not a _stressful _busy- does that make sense? I spend my days either meditating or holding sessions with a few people who've started coming to me for therapy. At night, I have dinner with Rukia-chan and Byakuya-sama and Renji-kun, then we walk around the estate grounds, then just spend a quiet hour or two talking or doing whatever, then go to sleep.

"Before, I was always rushing everywhere, there were deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, and so many exams, I was always feeling insecure about what I knew about being a doctor. And with Kurosaki-kun being so out of it about me, and how I feel- _felt_- about him, I felt insecure about myself as a girl. Woman. What_ever_ I am. But the way some of the men in Soul Society act..." She began blushing as her words trailed away.

Tatsuki sat upright like a shot. "How are they acting?" she demanded, a delighted glint in her eyes. "Are they fawning over you like slavering beasts? Cuz they damned well _should _be, Orihime. It's about time you're noticing and enjoying it. It's one of the things that's actually fun about being a woman."

"Not so much with the slavering, but there has been a little fawning," Orihime admitted, her blush still going strong. "And it's not all a flirty type of thing... I'm feeling more confident about myself as a person in general. Byakuya-sama says that not only does he believe I can achieve bankai- that only happens to one person in a thousand, no, in _ten _thousand, Tatsuki-chan!- but that I could even be made captain of Fourth Division some day!"

"That _is _nice," Tatsuki agreed slowly, as if she were coming to a realization about something.

"And Renji-kun said such a nice thing to me the other night, that if anyone could fix people up and help them be happier, it would be me..." Orihime was up on her knees now, excitement shining in her eyes as she bounced on the limp old sofa cushion. "And when we tested my newest technique, Byakuya-sama praised me for being able to withstand his shikai and a few seconds of his bankai! And he's _very _strong, Tatsuki-chan, so that's a huge compliment!"

She thought Tatsuki would be excited, too, but her friend was just sitting there, eyeing her with what appeared to be growing suspicion.

"...so, uh, yeah, I'm feeling better about myself lately, too," she finished in a small voice, not sounding like she felt better about herself in the slightest. "Tatsuki-chan?"

"You're mentioning this Byakuya a lot, Orihime," Tatsuki stated flatly. "Like, a _lot_. So spill it- what's going on with him?"

"What are you talking about, Tatsuki-chan?" Orihime asked in amazement. She could feel her face heating as her blush renewed. "I don't... for Byakuya-sama... why would you even _say _such a thing?"

Tatsuki sliced her a mischievous, knowing grin. "I think you're protesting too much."

"No, I'm protesting exactly as much as I should be!" She put her hands to her hot cheeks. "Byakuya-sama is funny and smart and talented and good-looking, Tatsuki-chan, but we're just... hm. _Are _we friends?" She pursed her mouth in thought. "He's so remote and touchy, I don't even know _what _we are. We might be friends, but with him, it's almost impossible to know. You know?"

"I know that you're talking a lot about how he can't possibly like _you_, but I'm not hearing anything about how _you _feel about _him_. Which tells me everything I need to know." She sat back into her corner of the sofa, an unbearably smug smirk on her face. "You like him."

"Of course I _like _him, Tatsuki-chan!" Orihime said, exasperated. "He's Rukia-chan's brother, and I've known him for a decade, and he's been very kind in letting me stay at his home for this past month, and as I get to know him, I realize he's good company. But-"

"No," interrupted Tatsuki, "you _like _him, like him. I can tell. It's just like how you were at the beginning, when you started liking Ichigo." She sat forward, her eyes intent on Orihime's. "And from what I've heard from you and him, it sounds like Kuchiki Byakuya is not the type of guy to reciprocate the feelings of a soft-hearted young thing like you."

"He's not," Orihime agreed instantly. "Which is _fine_, because I do not _'like _him, like him'. We're 25 years old, Tatsuki-chan, why are we still talking this way?" She crossed her arms over her bosom and gave a little huff. "And am I so stupid that I have to be warned off from an unsuitable man?"

Tatsuki grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that, Orihime, so I'm sorry if it hurt your feelings. I'm just... I worry about you. I don't think you realize how hard it was for us to watch you languish after that blockhead for so damned many years."

"Us? Who's 'us'?" demanded Orihime.

"Me, Uryuu, Sado, even Mizuiro and Chizuru. Maybe especially Chizuro... she's always been praying you'll come to your senses and embrace the love of Sappho. But anyway... it was sad before you were abducted, and after you came back, it was downright agonizing. And however much it hurt us, I know it hurt you even more. So can you blame me for wanting to spare you that again?"

How was she supposed to stay angry after such a heartfelt explanation? Orihime abruptly felt all the indignation just seep out of her, like she was deflating.

"I know," she said miserably, and slumped against the old tweed sofa cushion. "You're not wrong, Tatsuki-chan."

She averted her gaze to stare blindly out the window. Tatsuki was one of the few who was aware of just how much Orihime had suffered during her abduction; it had been on her shoulders that Orihime had sobbed out the details of how Menoly and Loly had tortured her, how Nnoitra had raped her body, how Aizen had raped her mind.

"I'm not falling for Byakuya-sama," she said at last. "You know me, I can't resist becoming friends with everyone. And if there were ever anyone on the planet who needed a friend, it's him. He's got to be the loneliest person I ever met."

Tatsuki huffed. "Just don't let your pity lead you into something weird with him."

Orihime had to laugh. "_Weird?_ Tatsuki-chan, I kill monsters by shooting fairies out of my hands. Half my friends are dead. Heck, _I'm_ dead. Being friends with Byakuya-sama is probably the most normal thing about me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," grumbled Tatsuki. "I still think you're protesting too much. But I'll let it go for now."

"Generous of you," said Orihime, grumbling as well. "Why did I come visit you, again?"

"Because you love me more than anyone else," replied Tatsuki promptly, without doubt or arrogance. It was true, after all.

"Not anymore, according to you," Orihime shot back.

"Kuchiki Byakuya could never take my place!" Tatsuki protested. "We have history together! Many long years of close bonding!"

"You've never actually met him, have you?" Orihime asked, an amused smile curving her lips.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, nothing... I'll just wait until you've seen him in person, and then we'll see if you still think there's no way you could never be replaced."

And with that, Orihime went to make tea in the kitchen, laughing at the expression of outrage on Tatsuki's face.

* * *

It was evening the next day in Soul Society when Orihime returned, and her arms were getting seriously tired by the time she made it to the far end of the Senkaimon and stepped out onto the Kuchiki estate's manicured garden lawn. She set the heaping bags down at her feet and swung her aching arms in circles, trying to get the blood flowing properly again.

Renji poked his scarlet head out of a nearby room. "Ah, I thought I felt your reiatsu!" he exclaimed. Spying all the bags she had set down, he loped over to help with them as Byakuya made an appearance at the door, watching impassively.

"Ah, Renji-kun, no, that's not necessary-" Orihime said, beginning to panic when Renji grabbed one of the bags of sex toys. She reached for the bag but he kept moving it so she couldn't get a handhold, mouth curved in a feral grin.

"Hehehe, what's in here you wouldn't want me to see?" He flash-stepped a few feet away to keep Orihime from the bag and glanced down, his grin fading when he realized its contents and why, exactly, her face might be flaming. "Orihime-chan," he said, his tone well and truly shocked, "this is full of dildoes!"

He reached in and pulled out an enormous rubber dong in an eye-searing shade of purple latex, waving it at her in emphasis.

"Most of them are vibrators, actually," Orihime said miserably, attempting without success to grab the purple dildo from Renji. "One of the other bags is half-full of batteries for them."

Renji had recovered from his surprise at that point, and was waggling the purple dildo at Orihime as if he were threatening her with a sword, his other hand on his hip. "Gotta say, Orihime-chan, I never had you pegged for a girl who was into this sort of stuff."

"Renji-kun!" she shrieked, and snatched at the dildo, only to have him hold it over his head so she couldn't reach. "Give it back!"

"If you were so desperate for a little loving, I know tons of guys who'd be more than happy to- oof! Dammit, Rukia!"

Rukia had appeared from within the house and, in a single smooth motion, removed the dildo from Renji's hand, stuffed it back into the bag, and elbowed Renji smartly in the belly. "They're not for her, idiot. I asked her to buy them," she growled at him. "Sorry, Orihime-chan. I only found out what was on the list after you'd gone."

"It's fine, Rukia-chan," Orihime replied, very glad to be able to relinquish ownership of the bags and their upsetting contents. "It was so weird, going to that store and getting so many things. Everyone thought I was the sickest pervert alive! And I don't even know what half those things _do_!"

A choked sound came from the verandah, and she, Rukia, and Renji all looked over to find Byakuya gazing with great interest off into the distance. Though his face was blank as always, his eyes were gleaming and Orihime realized he was was very, very amused.

"I am not sure which is more disturbing," he murmured at last. "That Rukia would request you buy a large number of such... items, or that you would actually agree to do so."

Now it was Rukia's turn for her eyes to pop out in dismay.

"Nii-sama!" Rukia exclaimed, her face as red as a tomato. "These aren't- they're not for me! They're for the members of the Women's Association! They had asked me to make purchases for them the next time I was in the living world, since I go far more often than any of them do!"

"And even if they were all for Rukia-chan, if she asked me to, I'd still buy them for her!" Orihime added loyally. "That's what friends are for!"

"Friends are for buying huge sackfuls of unnaturally-sized sex toys?" Renji demanded, incredulous and horrified. "That is _not at all _what friends are for! Friends are for getting drunk with, and teaming up when you get in bar fights, and playing soccer! They're not for buying dildoes and vibrators!"

"And nipple clamps and butt-plugs," Rukia added absently as she started to rummage through the bags, starting to recover from her embarrassment now that she realized her brother was- miracle of miracles- teasing her.

Orihime was scandalized but starting to have fun with the insanity of it all. "And cock-rings and fur-lined handcuffs," she whispered, trying and failing to stifle a nervous giggle. "There was something called a spreader-bar on the list, but they were all out. So please apologize to Unohana-taichou that I couldn't get that for her."

Renji and Byakuya exchanged a glance at that point; it seemed that still waters ran deep in the case of Unohana-taichou.

Rukia began to haul the bags toward the house, intent on putting them in her room so she could distribute them to their respective new owners on the morrow, but Orihime stopped her.

"Some of the batteries are mine," she said. "For- for my toothbrush! And my stereo!" she hastened to add when Renji and Byakuya exchanged another look. "And I bought a few presents for people!" She dug a slim CD case from one of the sacks, holding it out toward Byakuya. "I thought you'd like this. It seems like the sort of music you'd enjoy."

Byakuya stared down at the CD in his hand, then up at Orihime with a frown. "I have no way of using this."

"I do!" she replied cheerfully. "That's why I got the batteries for myself, so we could play it!" She tilted her head to the side and considered his lack of technological acuity. "Would you like me to hang on to it until we get a chance to listen to it?"

"If you wish." Truth be told, Byakuya had no idea what to do, either with the CD or the girl. He was not accustomed to being the recipient of impromptu gifts. "...thank you," he said at last, deciding that gratitude would not go amiss.

The girls grabbed the shopping bags Orihime had returned with, and the group entered the house and began walking down the hall, Byakuya and Orihime in front and Rukia behind with Renji, the two still arguing in whisper.

"You're welcome!" Orihime beamed up at him. "I wanted to thank you for being so generous in letting me stay here! It's been a lot of fun so far!"

It... had? Byakuya tried to think what, exactly, in the past week had been 'fun' and came up blank.

"And you've been so nice," she continued blithely. "It's been great to get to know you better, after all these years. You're a lot funnier than I thought you would be."

He stopped walking and turned to just stare at her in disbelief; from the corner of his eye, he could see Renji and Rukia staring likewise at their friend.

"I'm sorry," Orihime said the moment she noticed she was the center of their attention. "Are you not used to compliments? That's sad. Everyone should get to hear good things about themselves." She reached out and patted his forearm, clearly intending to comfort him. "I'll make sure to let you know how much I appreciate you, so you can get used to it!"

Her face lit up, then. "Same for you two!" she informed Rukia and Renji. "Rukia-chan, I know I've thanked you already for going to so much trouble to seal my memories to me, and wanting me to stay here, you're so loving and generous!" Rukia blinked. "And Renji-kun, you're so loyal and handsome and protective! The best friend a person could ask for."

She smiled radiantly at them all before jostling the bag in her arms with a faint blush. "Who knew a bag of these things would be so heavy! I guess fisting gloves and strap-on harnesses weigh more than you'd think. Rukia-chan, let's go put everything down."

Byakuya watched them go, and felt somewhat disgruntled. His tattooed half-wit of a lieutenant was handsome but he, Byakuya, scion of the noble house of Kuchiki, was _funny_? The girl had to live in a separate plane of existence.

"I never knew you were such a comedian, taichou," Renji commented as they progressed down the hallway toward the lounge. He shot his captain a sly sideways glance and crossed his arms nonchalantly behind his head. "Wish I were funny. Guess I'll just have to settle for being protective. And loyal. _And _handsome."

"Like a Rottweiler," Byakuya murmured with a sideways glance of his own. "You do drool enough to qualify." Renji's smirk faltered.

From behind them, a giggle sounded, and they turned to see Orihime standing there with Rukia, having deposited their burdens in their bedrooms.

"See?" said Orihime. "That was funny."

"I'll take your word for it," Renji said, clearly unconvinced.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, making them all jump a little. "We went to a photo booth and got pictures of everyone for all our friends here in Soul Society!" She dashed back to her room and returned seconds later, waving a big paper envelope as she plunked herself down at the low stable between Rukia and Byakuya.

Orihime pulled out a stack of large, glossy photos and began handing them around. "This is the best one," she said of the photo on top. In it, six of them had managed to jam themselves into the purikuri booth. Ichigo, Uryuu, and Mizuiro were seated with Chizuru seated on Ichigo's lap, Tatsuki on Mizuiro's, and an oddly familiar-seeming blonde girl on Uryuu's in the middle. The girls, Uryuu, and Mizuiro were smiling; Ichigo looked cranky but wasn't frowning outright. Sado, having no hope in hell of fitting in the booth with them, contented himself with poking in his head sideways, fingers in a peace sign beside his impassive face.

"Who's the strange girl?" Rukia asked, puzzled.

"That's me!" said Orihime with a laugh. "I got the gigai from Urahara-san, and he made it look like how he would look if he were a woman. It was weird to be so different! But kind of fun, at the same time."

The next photo was all of them in the same pose, but the blonde Urahara-like Orihime held up a little sign that said, "Wish you were here!" with hearts and stars drawn around the words. "I have copies of this one for you, Rukia-chan, and you, Renji-kun, because we missed you a lot! And also for Rangiku-chan and Toushirou-kun and Ikkaku-san and Yumichika-san! It would have been so fun if all of you had been with us!"

"Where, at the pervert shop?" Renji drawled. "Rangiku and Yumi would have had a ball, but Hitsu-taichou and Ikkaku would have freaked out. And we-" his hand gestured to indicate himself and Rukia "-would not have stepped foot inside."

"Speak for yourself, idiot," Rukia muttered, flicking to the next photo and grinning. It showed the group, again, except this time Mizuiro had gotten his hands on a sparkly pink vibrator and was holding it aloft like Excaliber just pulled from the stone- it appeared to have been switched on because it was a little blurry. The group's reaction was comical; Tatsuki, in Mizuiro's lap, had jerked so far away from him that she bonked her head on Sado's- the photo had been snapped at the exact moment that their skulls made contact, if Sado's expression of pain was anything to go by.

Chizuru was leaning forward, trying to grab the vibrator from Mizuiro. Ichigo's face was a mottled fuschia. Orihime was falling off Uryuu's lap, her face a bug-eyed mask of alarm and her hair flying back from the force of her tumbling to the floor. Uryuu's eyes were wide, too, behind his glasses, and his hands were stretched out as if to catch her.

The next photo was the aftermath. Tatsuki and Sado were rubbing their abused pates, and Orihime was standing, leaning over to brush off her knees while Chizuru, behind her, leered at Orihime's bottom. Ichigo had his eyes closed while pinching the bridge of his nose in disgust, and Uryuu and Mizuiro appeared to be arguing. The vibrator was not in evidence.

"Those two were the first pictures," Orihime said. "It took a while for us to settle down and behave so we could get the shot we wanted to give everyone."

"I think I prefer the candid ones," Rukia said with a mischievous grin. "But I wish I'd been there, too. It does look fun."

"Next time, you have to come along! You too, Renji-kun! I promise we won't go to the pervert store," she added quickly, stilling the protest on his lips. "We'll just go stuff ourselves on yummy food and take silly pictures."

"Maybe I _wanted _to go to the pervert store," Rukia grumbled.

"We'll sneak away, and I'll show it to you," Orihime whispered, thinking the men couldn't hear her. Byakuya flicked a glance to Renji that said, _You will not allow my sister to visit that place alone _and Renji's answering glare said, _Duh, of course not._

They had already eaten; it was now time for the post-prandial perambulation (also known as the after-dinner walk) through the Kuchiki estate's grounds.

"The tea garden tonight?" Rukia suggested, and they headed that way, she and Renji in the lead, bickering as they walked, with Orihime and Byakuya following behind.

"Thank you again for letting me use the senkaimon, Byakuya-sama," said Orihime. "It was so wonderful to see everyone again. I'm... I'm not good at handling loss. I think that's why my zanpakutou abilities have manifested as they have... why I'm able to reject reality. I've been able to harness the power of my own denial mechanism. If that's not a head case, I don't know what is." She gave a little laugh. "But then they always say the craziest people of all are psychiatrists.

"I'm probably too clingy in general. Physically as well as emotionally. I think I'm more of a touchy-feely person than I realized," she continued. "I'm used to hugging my friends or touching them more than I have done with everyone here in Soul Society. I didn't get a lot of affection when I was little, so I'm trying to make up it now."

_Who _did _get lots of affection as a child? _Byakuya wondered irritably. Certainly not he. Were they to have another soul-baring conversation? Was this to become the norm with her residing on the Kuchiki estate?

"I miss my brother," she whispered. _Soul-baring conversation it is, then_, he thought grimly, resigning himself to it even as he felt a startling sense of cameraderie at her obvious grief.

"I miss my wife," he replied before he could catch himself, and was horrified at the lapse of his self-control, then again when he felt her little hand slip into his and give a gentle squeeze.

"But we have to accept that they're gone," she continued, withdrawing her hand. Its absence made him feel a little lonelier. "We won't be able to move on unless we do. I don't intend on spending the rest of my life torn up." She glanced sideways at him. "And I consider you a friend now, Byakuya-sama, so I won't let you do that, either."

He had to admire her determination, misguided as it was. "I am perfectly capable of handling my own grief," he informed her.

"But you're _not_," she replied, seeming startled as she stopped walking and turned to face him. Rukia and Renji, caught up in their own conversation, didn't notice and walked on. "It's been sixty years and you're still mourning her. That's not healthy. How many opportunities for happiness have you passed up because of it?"

"Do not try to work your healing on me," he said coldly, his eyes glacial in the spill of cool moonlight. "You presume much."

"I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I don't mean to offend. I just want you to be happy."

"Why?" he asked, and began to walk again; behind him, he heard the sound of her feet on the path's stones as she hurried to catch up to him. "Why does it matter to you if I am happy or not? What would be the result if I were not?"

"If I didn't at least _try _to help you be happy..." Orihime paused, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. "I would feel guilty. Like there were more I could do, and just didn't, and it would be my fault..."

"You are responsible for the contentment of the world, then?" His tone was dry, and he knew she'd gotten his point when her face lit up in a smile.

"It's pretty ridiculous, when put that way, huh?" She sighed. "I guess I have to stop feeling like I'm supposed to take care of everyone. But it's part of my nature, to love everyone! So I don't know if I _can _stop."

"Is that what love is?" Byukuya wondered aloud. "To be concerned with another's happiness?"

Orihime glanced up at him, clearly startled. "Isn't it? What else _is _there to love?"

"Is there not some more selfish component? A sense of possession, or the craving for whatever pleasure is to be found?" They were edging on more risky territory here, and Byakuya knew he should back away, should steer them toward a safer zone, but he was feeling reckless tonight. "Or a feeling of security, or of pride to be in the company of an enviable person?"

She looked thoughtful. "I've felt possessive before," she said, "but I don't know much about the pleasure stuff." She looked embarrassed at that. "And the security and pride... I haven't, uh, actually been in a romantic relationship before. So I don't know."

_Ah. _That explained much. "Kurosaki and his inexplicable blindness where your affection is concerned, I presume?"

"Even you know about that?" Orihime said with a rather charming pout, then sighed. "Yes, though I've sworn him off for a few years now. And now that I'm dead, so are any chances for a relationship with him." She sighed. "But Rangiku-chan says I have to be open to exploring new options, so I'm looking to fresh horizons!" She pumped a fist in the air for emphasis. "So bring on the men, world! I'm ready for them!"

Byakuya made a show of glancing around, as if waiting for the hordes of suitors sure to be approaching at any moment. When none were forthcoming, he turned back to Orihime to find her trying to be stern and failing miserably, because she started laughing.

"Being funny again, taichou?" Renji asked as he and Rukia came up the path toward them.

"So it would seem," answered Byakuya pleasantly. "Pity your handsomeness was not up to par tonight." He turned and entered the house, leaving them to follow, Orihime giggling behind her hand.

That seemed to indicated that it was time for Renji to leave; Rukia showed him out, leaving Byakuya and Orihime alone.

"I will give you another shunpou lesson soon," Byakuya said after a while, more to have a reason to change the subject than for anything else.

"Oh, yay!" she replied, her face lighting up with pleasure.

"I expect you will have practiced since your first lesson," he continued.

"I did! I promise! I'll be so good at it, you won't believe it!"

He was sure that was true.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello everyone! Happy New Year! I hope you all had wonderful holidays and are having a great start to 2013. Here's our next chapter of the chronicles of Orihime and Byakuya. **

**Thanks for your reviews, I'm so so so happy you're enjoying the story this much! I can't tell you how delighted I am to have converted to Ori/Bya shipping those of you who were skeptical. After this, let's see if I can get you to ship Isane/Kenpachi! (I already have 5 chapter of pure smut written for those two, haha)**

**I've compiled a playlist of songs that I think really represent our gal and guy at various times during the story; if you're interested in seeing it, let me know in a review and I'll post it with chapter 11 in a week or so.**

**Without more ado or delay- chapter 10! Please review and let me know what you think :) Thanks!**

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 10**

"Are you sure it's okay for us to be meeting here?" Orihime asked nervously as she stepped into the room that Yachiru had chosen for this month's Shinigami Women's Association meeting. Most of the high-ranking female officers were in attendance, lounging around various low tables of food and drink while they waited for the meeting to commence.

"Relaaaaaaax," said Rangiku, waving a lazy hand in dismissal. "Unohana-taichou did that sealing kidou that's suppressing our reiatsu. Nothing'll get past that sucker."

"Nii-sama is still at work," Rukia added. "He won't be home until dinnertime, the meeting will long be over by then."

Orihime figured that should be alright, though she felt marginally guilty for sneaking around on the estate when she knew full well that Byakuya did not want the Women's Association meeting there. She lapsed into silence while everyone else chatted amongst themselves.

"Orihime-san," said Isane, leaning back to gain a clear line-of-sight with the other woman, "I wanted to ask you something... some of us in the Fourth- Hanatarou-kun, eighth seat Ogidou-san, and myself- hold free healing clinics a few times a week out in Rukongai. Each of us is responsible for one quarter, and we go to a different district each time. The ninth seat used to do it too, but she recently became pregnant and travelling back and forth has become too much for her. So now there's no one to go to South Rukongai, and I was wondering if you might be interested in doing it? I ask because I know you like to help others, and these people are so very poor-"

"Of course I'll help!" said Orihime, her eyes shining. This would be just the thing to help her keep busy until she decided what she wanted to do on a permanent basis! "When? Where? I can-"

"Everyone is present?" interrupted Nanao briskly, pushing up her glasses as she prepared to begin.

"We'll talk about it more later," whispered Isane. Orihime nodded back enthusiastically.

"I call this meeting to order," Nanao continued. "First order of business: welcome the newest member of our association, Inoue Orihime. She is not yet an official shinigami, but she has a zanpakutou, and after consultation with the membership at large, it was agreed that this is sufficient to be accepted into the Association."

"Yay, Orihime-chan!" shouted Rangiku; everyone else added their greetings, albeit somewhat more sedately. Orihime blushed a little, happy to be welcomed so warmly.

"Next order of business," Nanao continued. "Unohana-taichou would like to speak to us-"

"What will Byakuya-sama do if he finds us doing this here?" Orihime muttered to Rukia, her eyes wide in apprehension, while Nanao droned on.

"He will probably behave with perfect decorum as always," Rukia mumbled back, her own eyes equally big. "But he'll _want _to shred them into tiny little pieces with Senbonzakura, and then be furious the rest of the day because he wasn't able to."

"If I may have your attention, ladies?" Unohana-taichou inquired gently, having come to stand at the front of the room behind the lectern. "Today I will provide a lesson on a very important aspect of feminine health."

Orihime and Rukia obediently faced front and zipped their lips, though not without somewhat of a sinking feeling as they recognized the bags sitting on the floor at Unohana's feet. They were very familiar-looking bags, and there was a flash of eye-searing purple latex at the very top of one...

"Oh, god," Orihime breathed in horror. "She's going to talk about-"

"Masturbation," Unohana announced. "Sexuality is a core need of women, akin to eating and sleeping, yet we routinely ignore it, and to our detriment."

Around them, Isane was slowly turning a mottled scarlet; Kiyone looked more interested than grossed out, however, while Nanao just heaved a mighty, resigned sigh. Rangiku and Yoruichi (why was she there? who knew? but she loved the Association meetings) were grinning in delight. Soi Fong, in whose lap Yoruichi was lounging contentedly while eating grapes, was blushing but resolute; if her Yoruichi-sama wanted to be present at such a lesson, then she too would persevere. Nemu was blank as always, but Momo seemed determined to glean whatever she could from Unohana-taichou, even as she blushed brightly.

Unohana smiled serenely and reached for the bulging sack. "As you know, ladies, I believe fully in the important role of sexual fulfillment in a woman's life. Just because one might not be in a relationship is no excuse to neglect one's physical needs."

She began to remove items from the bag, placing them in neat rows on the table before her. "Orgasms not only provide pleasure, but stimulate endorphins and provide a means of relaxation, thus promoting sound sleep. Lacking a partner is irrelevant when one has the means to achieve climax alone."

Unohana gazed down at the array of sex toys before her and back up at the woman arranged around her. "A woman is responsible for her own pleasure. When with a partner, this means she should feel comfortable in directing him, or her, in how to better pleasure her. Without a partner, this can mean employing other tactics." She looked around the room at each woman. "How many of you have already used a sex aid of some sort?"

Rangiku's hand was the first in the air, of course, with Yoruichi's a close second. Nanao pushed her glasses up, her face inscrutable, as her hand went up for a split second. To Orihime's surprise, Momo's hand went up as well, even as the girl blushed furiously.

"And the rest of you have merely found manual satisfaction?" Unohana continued, waiting patiently for input from each woman.

Orihime's face felt very warm; she knew she was blushing too. To her left, Rukia's face was pink. Studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone, and fixing their gazes on opposite corners, they each nodded.

"As professional women," Unohana continued, "it is often difficult to find the time to spare in obtaining a partner, and that contributes to the neglect of our sexuality and the need for physical release. Therefore, it is essential that you be aware of alternatives to having an actual bedmate, and be able to bring yourself to orgasm. First, we will discuss the basics of penetrative sex, and how one can achieve it without an actual man."

She bent and plucked the purple dildo, last seen being waved about by Renji, from the bag and held it up so everyone could take a nice long look at it. "This is an artificial phallus; specifically, a dildo," Unohana announced.

"Oh, god, she really said it," groaned Isane, putting her hands over her face in despair. "Why didn't I believe her?"

"You never do, Isane dear," commented Unohana, "and it is always to your detriment. Depending on your experience with being penetrated," she continued, ignoring how at least half of her audience was cringing, "you will prefer different sizes of phallus.."

She plucked two more from the bag: one slightly smaller than the purple one, and one somewhat larger.

"Virgins should start with one of more modest size," said Unohana, indicating the little blue one, "while someone with a significant amount of experience in intercourse would probably enjoy a larger dildo," and she nodded toward the big green one.

"Some women require more stimulation than mere penetration, and for them we have a vibrator." Now a glossy black phallus with a square white base made an appearance. Unohana flicked a switch and it began to vibrate with a steady hum. "It is also especially useful for those women who have difficulty achieving climax; when applied directly to the clitoris, even the most anorgasmic woman can enjoy a satisfactory result!"

"This is hell," Isane was moaning. "I'm in hell."

"No, dear, you're just hopelessly repressed," Unohana told her sweetly.

"I don't think I'm repressed, but this feels pretty hellish to me, too," Orihime muttered to Rukia, who just nodded because she was feeling a little queasy.

Nemu blinked. "The proximity detector I attached to Kusajishi-fukutaichou has activated," she announced tonelessly. "I estimate she will locate and join us in approximately one minute and forty-two seconds."

"Everyone hurry and grab a toy before she gets here," said Rangiku, hopping up and reaching for a dildo of intimidating size with a rather scary-looking array of knobbles all over it. Yoruichi had been reaching for it as well, and they eyed each other like prize fighters before a match until Nemu stretched a hand between them and grabbed it for herself.

"There are enough for everyone," Unohana said with warm encouragement, trying to press the purple one into Orihime's hand.

"Oh, no, not that one, I couldn't," Orihime gasped. "Renji was waving it around... I just couldn't."

"Renji, huh?" asked Kiyone with a grin, and plucked it from Unohana's hand. "Don't mind if I do." She either didn't notice, or ignored, Rukia's sudden narrowing of eyes in her direction.

"T minus thirty-seven seconds until Kusajishi-fukutaichou's arrival," said Nemu. She had tucked the big knobbly dildo into her obi, where it already looked like she was trying (without much success) to smuggle a number of contraband cucumbers.

The risk of Yachiru discovering the cache of sex toys seemed to galvanize the more reluctant of the women in a way that mere enticement of physical pleasure could not; they began snatching up whatever they could reach and stuffing them away in their uniforms, and it was with the barest of margins that Momo was hiding the last stray butt plug in a fold of her hakama when Yachiru burst upon the scene.

She stared at them beadily, seeming to understand with uncanny awareness that they were hiding something significant from her. Her big eyes flickered around the room, resting upon each and every jittery woman with the piercing intent of a police detective fishing for a confession.

"What," she demanded at long last, "are all these batteries doing here?"

All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room; even Unohana seemed at a loss for what to say.

"Kusajishi-fukutaichou," said Nemu tonelessly, "come have your snack."

"Ooh, snacktime!" Yachiru exclaimed, forgetting all about the batteries and any secret her fellow shinigami might be keeping, and pelted toward the plate where a quarter of a cake reposed in wait for her.

From there, the meeting continued as normal, with regular issues being discussed, until with great relief everyone except Rukia and Orihime departed the estate.

"I'm exhausted," Orihime said as they trudged from the meeting room, located in a far-distant wing of the manor house, toward the main section where they lived. "That was exhausting. Can we not do that again? Ever?"

"Do what?"

Both girls _eeped _and whirled around to find Byakuya had flash-stepped to a stop behind them, freshly arrived home after work.

Unfortunately for them, their swift motion unsettled the moorings of their illicit cargo, and sex toys came raining out of their clothing to patter down by their feet: Orihime dropped a bright orange "rabbit" vibrator, a shiny metal cock-and-balls cage, and a pair of zebra-print handcuffs, while Rukia's bounty consisted of two dildoes screwed into a "double penetration" strap-on harness of red patent leather and a flesh-colored butt plug the size of a man's forearm. It had very realistic veining along the shaft.

Silence fell.

Byakuya solemnly studied the items that had tumbled to the floor.

"No wonder you are so tired," he commented, and walked away.

* * *

Orihime was feeling pretty confident, going into her second shunpou lesson; she'd had a little while to get past her mortification from dropping the sex toys at Byakuya's feet. Once back in her bedroom with the toys- which she had _fully _intended on handing over to Rangiku at earliest convenience- she'd gotten curious and given the rabbit vibrator a whirl.

That had been three days ago; after three days of exploration and adventuring (so to speak), Orihime now felt like a new woman. She was looking at the world in a whole new, and immeasurably relaxed, way. She'd managed to get past a lifetime's programming of feeling weird about sex and diddling herself; shunpou? No problem!

This time, however, instead of having the lesson take place at the Sixth Division "where those halfwits can interrupt again", Byakuya had instructed her to follow him to a wide-open, grassy space in South Rukongai's first district.

"This time, your priority is speed," he told Orihime. "You will do nothing but attempt to catch up to me. This is not to say you _can _catch up to me, because you cannot. But you will try."

And off he went, so fast that the air didn't blur around him: he was simply _gone_, appearing again a few seconds later at the very far edge of the field, a mere smudge against the green of the treeline. Orihime took a deep breath and followed him.

Byakuya began doing what amounted to a gigantic lap around the field, touching foot to earth perhaps once every quarter-lap, with Oriime trailing sadly behind. Sometimes he would stop and give her instructions: "Be thinking about the next step before the present one is finished" and "Roll forward from your heel to the ball of your foot for a smooth, uninterrupted step".

At one point, he was so far ahead of her that he was on the opposite side of the field, so she skipped the corner between them and shot crosswise over it, even managing to snag his sleeve before he leapt away. His face, a mask of surprise, was something she thought she'd prize forever (even as she knew she'd managed it only by cheating). It took him only seconds to realize she'd cheated, and he came back to her and glowered until she was giggling helplessly.

"C'mon, Byakuya-sama, it was just a joke," she said, and poked him in the shoulder. "Where's that famous sense of humor?"

"My sense of humor is famous only to you," he replied sourly, glancing at his shoulder in frank disbelief at her daring. "And only because you are simple-minded."

That just made her laugh harder, which actually made him roll his eyes. Not much- just the tiniest sliver of white showed at the bottom of his silvery irises- but it was enough to keep her giggling even after he flash-stepped away.

In pursuit once again, Orihime wondered if it were okay that she hadn't done anything to thank him for this lesson. She'd wanted to do another picnic, but recalled how abruptly he'd departed it, and decided that picnics were perhaps not something he enjoyed or wanted repeated. There had to be something else she could do... what was she good at that he would appreciate?

It came to her in a flash: she could sew. And he liked that crazy seaweed ambassador thing. She could make him a stuffed plushie of it!

"Hah!" she exclaimed in triumph.

And then slammed with considerable force into Byakuya's back, because he'd stopped to give her more instructions and she hadn't been paying close enough attention.

"Oof!" said Orihime as she bounced off the rock-solid plane of his back and fell onto her butt, a stream of blood from her nose flying through the air in her wake. Pain lanced through her face, bringing tears to her eyes even as she cursed herself as a total idiot.

"Ugh." She tried to get to her feet but the world swam around her so she just plopped back down on the ground.

"Why did you not see that I had stopped?" he asked, sounding graver than usual, and... concerned? His eyes were a bit wider than usual, too. Was he worried about her?

"I was thinking about something else." And boy, was she paying for that now. She must be a hideous mess of blood and tears and snot if even Byakuya was worried. She couldn't seem to stop crying, but it just hurt so damned _much_. "But I think I was going at a pretty good clip, eh, Byakuya-sama?"

"We'll discuss it later," he informed her. "For now... heal yourself."

With a thought, Orihime activated her Shun Shun Rikka; two points of light appeared to either side of her head and began to reverse the damage she'd done to herself. As they worked on returning her nose to its previous unbroken state, Orihime scrubbed at her face with her sleeve, shocked at how much blood had poured from her.

"I must look hideous," she said wryly.

Byakuya blinked slowly, as if assimilating her statement and pondering it carefully. "Not _hideous_," he said at last, "though it must be said that you are not at your best."

She laughed, then was sorry she had, as it made her entire head ache like she'd taken a mallet to the face. "Oh, ow," she whimpered as tears and blood dripped off her chin. "I know I'm a wimp, especially after all the damage I've seen Kurosaki-kun and Renji-kun and Uryuu-kun and Toshiro-kun and Sado-kun take over the years. Oh, and you too, Byakuya-sama! You've all been through so much and bear it so stoically... I just break my nose and I cry like a baby."

"It's fine," he murmured, the deepness of his voice soothing to her frazzled nerves. "I'm sure you've endured things that would have them crying like babies."

"Them... but not you?" she had to tease him. The healing had reversed the injury to where she was just a bit sore, now, and the tears had stopped coming. Her eyes were swollen from the crying, and directed the fairies to put them back to normal, too.

"There is nothing that could make me cry like anything, least of all a baby." There was a glint of amusement in his eyes and to the set of his mouth, like with just a little more enticement he might smile. Maybe. Almost.

"Did you cry like a baby when you _were _a baby?" Orihime asked him, joking but also wondering a little.

"I was the most amenable of children," Byakuya replied coolly.

"Really? Because Yoruichi-san told us that you were a demon beast." She took great delight in informing him of that, and even more to note the faint flush that tinted his cheeks pink before swiftly fading.

"A shameless, unmitigated lie," he informed her, his voice flat. "That woman delights in spreading blatant untruths about me."

"I bet you were cute," sighed Orihime as she sealed the two sparks that were Shu'nou and Lily back into her zanpakutou. "All messy hair and big eyes, trying to be dignified..." She barely managed to stifle a squee at the mental image of a haughty toddler Byakuya.

"There was no trying. I _was _dignified. And continue to be so, to this day." He turned away, then, surveying their surroundings. "Are you completely healed? If so, then I believe this area would be acceptable for me to display my bankai to you, if you are still interested in witnessing it."

"Are we done with the lesson?" Orihime looked ruefully down at her blood-stained shirt, now completely ruined. It had been one of her favorites, too.

"Was there some other part of your body you wished to injure?" He quirked an eyebrow.

She laughed, this time without the excruciating pain, and got to her feet. "No, I think breaking my nose was enough."

"Stand here. Do not move at all," he directed, pointing Orihime exactly where he wanted her, then surprising her by standing directly behind her, so close she could feel the cloth of his kosode brush and mingle with the fabric of her shirt. Though no part of his body was touching any part of hers, it felt somehow very intimate, and Orihime could not repress a single shiver of awareness of how near he was as the mood took an abrupt and confusing shift.

Byakuya curved his arm around Orihime, a sliver of space between them so they did not touch, and held Zenbonzakura vertically up in front of them. She watched with wide eyes as he murmured, "Chire." His reiatsu burgeoned, flickering and prickling over her skin, and the sword dissolved into a thousand tiny, glimmering shards before floating away on the wind.

"I can control it with my mind," he said, stock-still behind her, his thoughts driving the swoop and swirl of blades as he sent them on a freeform dance through the air around them. "But if I direct it with my hands, my accuracy is greatly increased."

He lifted his hands and, with a few deft motions, directed the blades through the leafy branches of a distant tree. Orihime gasped to see that only the leaves of certain branches had been removed, and where before had been a thick profusion of foliage, now the Kanji for the number "six" was clearly visible through the tree. As the blades coursed back toward them, Byakuya flicked his fingers, and a shower of leaves drifted over and around them- the leaves cut out for the 6 had been carried back by the blades at his whim, and how rained down upon them both.

Orihime spun around to face him, leaves falling from her as she did. "Byakuya-sama! That was amazing!" She reached up and plucked a leaf off his head, smiling joyously up at him. "And that's just shikai! I can't wait to see your bankai!"

He just stared down at her, and she realized suddenly how closely they were standing, and how intimate a gesture it was, to pull leaves from his hair. "Sorry!" she squeaked; quickly, feeling embarrassed, Orihime spun back around to face forward. "I'm ready to see your bankai now!" she said, forcing a note of oblivious enthusiasm into her voice.

Behind her, Byakuya was silent for so long that she thought he had decided not to go through with it after all. Just as the silence became so heavy that Orihime was about to start jabbering about something mindless to end it, he spoke. "Bankai."

Byakuya held out his sword, point down, and dropped it into the ground, which rippled as if turned to liquid where the sword pierced and disappeared into it. "Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."

The ground beneath them shivered; Byakuya's reiatsu swelled and flowed, almost tangible as it swept over her, and Orihime found herself shivering, too, as sleek silver swords rose in two long rows around them. When they reached full extension, they burst into fragments and began rushing in chaotic patterns in every direction. It was like his shikai, but so much _more_; the pressure and movement of the heightened reiatsu felt almost like a physical caress over her body, and Orihime realized she was breathing hard as his power coursed through her. She gasped over and over, forcing herself to focus on what Byakuya's bankai was doing rather than the extraordinary sensations she was feeling.

"Senkai." The waves of blades began to coalesce into swords, hundreds of them, glowing pink as they hovered in a towering column around Orihime and Byakuya. The reiatsu blasting inward toward them from the rings of swords blew her hair back. "There are fewer blades to this attack, with the power more concentrated in each." He held out a hand, and one of the pink swords shot from the column to place itself into his grasp. "I can use any or all of them at my whim."

"Goukei." The rows of swords melted back into petal-like shards; this time they formed a sphere that swirled in a dance of vicious beauty. "When I use this attack, that sphere surrounds my opponent. There is no escape. The blades shoot inward to shred him to pulp, but it causes an immense shock wave of reactive reiatsu that I must flash-step to escape if I do not wish to also be shredded. Since there is no reason to release such destruction, I will refrain from demonstrating."

"Sounds good to me," Orihime agreed woozily. She felt warm all over, and there was a tingling heat concentrated at the tips of her breasts and between her legs. She realized that she was turned on, and not just a little bit: she was in a full-fledged state of female _heat_, and it was all due to Kuchiki Byakuya and his reiatsu flooding over her body. She blamed Tatsuki, 100%. If Tatsuki hadn't gone and insisted that Orihime _liked _him-liked him, then she'd never begin to have even a single stray thought about him in _that _way.

"This is my final ability," he continued. "You will want to turn around to see it."

Orihime shuffled in place until she was facing him, aware- again- how close they stood. And how good he smelled; the reiatsu blowing off him was like snow and cherry blossom petals at the same time. His smell made her wonder if he tasted just as good, and she repressed the urge to lick her chops at the prospect. This was all Tatsuki's fault.

"Shuukei, Hakuteiken," he intoned.

The sphere disappeared in a blink of an eye, and the usual pinkish light of Senbonzakura faded into a pure white energy that began uncurling and undulating into the shape of feathers, until an enormous set of wings pulsed from Byakuya's back. Connecting them in an arc over his head was a halo. Orihime's jaw dropped open.

Slowly, almost lazily, he began to flap those glorious white wings, and Orihime was now certain she was about to faint; the pressure of Byakuya's reiatsu was so monstrous now that her skin felt as if it were being scoured by sand, and a grey mist was beginning to cloud the edges of her vision. Her knees sagged, and though she fought to remain standing, she slumped against him.

The shock of contact, his chest against hers, sent a shudder through her as his free left arm came around her waist to hold her up, and Orihime dropped her head to his shoulder, her world narrowing to the thud of his heart beneath her cheek. It was probably for the best, that her strength was gone, because otherwise she wasn't sure she wouldn't make a pass at his immaculate self and that would probably end badly for her.

"Push out with your own reiatsu," he murmured in her ear. "You are strong, yourself. Do this."

His breath was a warm caress against the sensitive curve of her ear; Orihime shuddered again. She fisted her hand in his kosode, gasping for breath, and made herself focus on his directive. She struggled to find her reiatsu, but for the first time ever, it had a slippery feel, like a fish wriggling to escape her grasp. Again she tried, trying to convert Byakuya's power into her own, and finally- after what felt like years, but was probably only moments- managed to take hold of her reiatsu. She began to increase it, but it was so difficult to push back the weight of his, but when she realized she could breath a little easier, and felt more strength in her legs, she knew it was working. Steadily, she kept going until she could breathe regularly once more.

"Good," he said, flapping his wings again.

And suddenly, they were aloft.

Orihime barely stifled a shriek, her arms coming up to clasp his neck even though his arm was a band of steel around her waist. She was far too weak to manage shunpou at this moment; it was all she could do to maintain her reiatsu level so she didn't pass out. "You can fly with these, too?"

"What good are wings if you cannot fly with them?" Byakuya asked, sounding amused, and began to soar over the rooftops of Rukongai.

Orihime blinked, absorbing that until it made more sense, and then realized that she was wasting this once-in-a-lifetime experience by hiding her face against his (hard, muscular) chest. Though she did not slacken her own iron grip around his neck, she craned her head until she had a full view of the world around her. And oh, what a view...

This was not something she would ever see with shunpou; that went far too fast. This more leisurely mode of travel offered the time to visually explore one's surroundings, take in the whole splendor at once. Rukongai stretched out before them, the intricate patterns and paths of the buildings and streets spread out for their perusal, and Seireitei beckoned in the distance

The immense power flowing from them both was attracting attention; they were not too terribly high up, perhaps just a hundred feet, and thus easily noticed. People were running out of buildings and pointing up at them; the buzz of their amazement could be heard even at their altitude.

Byakuya turned westward and swooped over the closest division, the Tenth. Rangiku's bright golden hair flew behind her like a banner as she ran out to see what was going on, Toushirou just a few seconds behind her. Orihime laughed at the expression of outright amazement on Rangiku's face, though she understood it entirely; if she'd been watching Kuchiki Byakuya flying with huge white wings over Seireitei while a girl clung to him (in, it must be admitted, abject terror) she'd gape in shock as well.

Then her jaw did fall open, because Toushirou flash-stepped up to them. Byakuya easily paused, wings flapping lazily to maintain their position aloft, as his fellow captain joined them.

"You're disrupting things," Toushirou said flatly, his eyes chilly as they bored into Byakuya's. "You of all people should be aware of how difficult it is to get our subordinates to work in the first place; I don't need you performing circus acts and distracting them." By 'our subordinates' and 'them' he meant, of course, Rangiku (who was currently standing on the ground, waving frantically up at them while she shouted something Orihime couldn't hear (later, she would learn it was, "You go, girl!")

"Indeed," was Byakuya's response. "My apologies." He did not sound in the least apologetic. With a flip of a wing, he turned them around and began flying them- albeit at a pace so slow, it was certainly intended as insult to his peer's daring to scold him- back toward the Kuchiki estate.

As he descended toward the clearing in the middle of The Thicket, Orihime could see two figures waiting below- one tiny and dark, the other large and red-headed. Byakuya touched them to earth with the deftness that characterized everything he did while Rukia and Renji watched, mouths open in amazement.

"Nii-sama," Rukia croaked. "We felt your reiatsu, then Orihime-chan's... we thought... a battle, since you never... Nii-sama."

"...Yeah," agreed Renji, appearing not more eloquent than she.

"You may release me," Byakuya told Orihime, and she found that while he had let her go several seconds previous, her arms were still clamped around his neck. And she had a crick in her neck from keeping it turned so sharply for so long.

"Oh!" She quickly pulled away from him and promptly fell over. Various parts of her were still throbbing in arousal. The lingering effects of fright and amazement still gripped her, as well. She doubted she'd be able to walk anytime soon.

"Orihime-chan!" Rukia exclaimed. "Where are you hurt?" She quickly knelt by Orihime's side, hands fluttering uselessly. Orihime realized, belatedly, that her blood-stained shirt must look pretty gory to someone who didn't know what had happened.

"Damn, Taichou, what'd you do to her?" asked Renji in amazement. He peered through narrowed eyes at his captain. "We felt your reiatsu spike in bankai, and then hers went haywire too, and then you were flying all over town..."

But Byakuya was standing there with his eyes closed, and Renji knew he'd get no answers from that block of granite.

"Byakuya-sama was kind enough to give me another shunpou lesson," Orihime said, "and I wasn't paying attention and slammed into his back and broke my nose. It bled a lot, and hurt like you wouldn't believe! But I healed myself and it's fine now. Then Byakuya-sama showed me all the different forms of his bankai. It's so amazing! And the reiatsu of it is so strong! I thought I was going to faint so many times!"

"I thought you did faint," Byakuya commented.

"Not completely. I'd call that more of a swoon than an outright faint," said Orihime, upon consideration. That it had more to do with being swept away by a tidal wave of lust than succumbing to his reiatsu was a detail she decided to keep to herself (though she couldn't refrain from blushing a little because of it).

"You are well?" he murmured to her, head tilted slightly to one side as he surveyed her, and she gently batted Rukia's fussing hands away before gingerly standing.

"Yes, fine," she replied, then bowed (and wobbled a little when her center of gravity shifted). "Thank you so much for the shunpou lesson, then showing me your bankai. It was very humbling to be allowed to observe it. I appreciate your kindness in displaying it to me."

He nodded back, then turned and left.

"So I'm going to go back to the manor and wash up!" she announced pertly to her friends, who were now studying her in perplexity. "I'll see you both at dinner!"

And Orihime did indeed go back and wash, and then she went to her room, dug out the vibrator from its hiding place where she hoped the servants couldn't find it when they cleaned, and indulged in a marathon masturbation session that had her eyes crossing, her toes curling, and her heart pounding.

But most of all, it had her brain worrying that she'd just experienced the best orgasm of her life while thinking about Kuchiki Byakuya, what a bad idea it was to start thinking of him in "that way", and swearing she'd never do it again...

...after one last go. And then certainly, definitely, never again.

Absolutely _never_.


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry for such a long wait! January kind of sucked badly for me, so I've been busy with having to be an adult instead of the fandom-obsessed 16 year old I am in my head. I hope to be back on a semi-regular schedule from now on. Thanks for being patient and sticking with me and this story! 3

Orihime is referred to as "sensei" at one point in this chapter because doctors in Japan are called "sensei" and the speaker is aware that Orihime is a doctor in the living world.

Someone (don't recall who, sorry!) asked if I made Orihime a psychiatrist because I'm one, or because I can see her doing it... I will admit I am a social worker in real life, working with a lot of people with mental illness, but I do honestly feel that Orihime might choose a career in mental health because she is such a compassionate person who hates when others are suffering, whether physically or emotionally. I think she might go into psychiatry because she can already fix physical wounds, so she'd want the training to be able to help with the emotional ones, too. That's my rationale for making her a shrink in this story :) I hope it makes sense to everyone.

**Become A Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 11**

Another week, another pub crawl, and this time, Rukia was available to accompany them. Rangiku felt she could now, after a few months of her specialized tutelage, trust Orihime to dress herself in an alluring manner, so Orihime didn't have to trek over to Tenth Division so her friend could primp and prod her into attractiveness.

Orihime decided on a blue skirt with black polka dots and a cute, kind of low-cut black top with a tiny satin bow between the boobs, paired with steep black wedges featuring the most adorable ankle straps. She thought maybe she'd neglected paying attention to fashion for too long, and cursed that she'd spark an interest in it after dying and ending up in a place that was consistently 200 years out-of-style.

The horde announced their arrival with a vehement assault on the gong at the front gate. Dimly in the distance could be heard various hootings and hollerings that the two woman were to present themselves forthwith.

"We should hurry," Rukia said as they made their way up the long hallway, "before they get so rowdy Nii-sama is irritated.'

"Thank you," he said from behind them, making them gasp. Orihime saw that teensy little smile he got at sneaking up on people and decided to tease him back.

"You should come with us, Byakuya-sama!" she exclaimed. "It would be so fun!"

Both Byakuya and Rukia peered at her doubtfully.

"Thank you, no," Byakuya said at last.

Orihime had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "If you change your mind, we'll be somewhere in East Rukongai."

"Hn," was his reply as he ventured back down the hallway, but she could hear the amusement in it.

Once Rukia and Orihime had been led away by the noisy throng, Byakuya settled in to what he'd anticipated would be a peaceful evening of answering letters and, time permitting, a bit of calligraphy. After an hour, however, he found himself unsettled and distracted, and realized he was bored. The room seemed... empty, somehow. Dimmer, as if only half the usual lights were on.

Thus he was relieved when in the distance he heard the gong soundat the outer gate (though with far more restraint than the others before), signaling the approach of a visitor. Byakuya put away his brush and inkstone and made himself ready to entertain.

"I'm sorry to intrude upon you, Kuchiki-taichou," said Outoribashi Roujirou, also known as the Vaizard Rose, when a servant led him in.

"Outoribashi-taichou," he acknowledged, gesturing for him to be seated.

Rose bowed, then knelt formally before his peer. "May I speak with your honored guest, Inoue Orihime-sensei?"

Byakuya's eyebrow lifted. This was unexpected. "I regret to tell you that Inoue-san is not here at the moment."

"I am sorry to hear that; it is a matter of some urgency, I'm afraid. Can you tell me where she went? I will go to find her."

"She went on what Matsumoto-fukutaichou termed a 'pub crawl' with a number of other lieutenants and officers," Byakuya replied. "They could be in one of any number of bars in Rukongai." He frowned in concentration. "Though I do recall someone mentioning they were heading to East Rukongai tonight."

Rose got to his feet. "That gives me a direction to start in, at least," he said heavily. "Thank you for your time, I apologize for disturbing your evening."

"Not at all," demurred Byakuya, secretly pleased to be rescued from what otherwise would have been a terminally dull night. "I will help you search for her."

Rose looked surprised, and Byakuya wondered if his reputation for being emotionless was so bad that people did not expect him to offer his help in a crisis.

"Thank you; I suppose you are more familiar with her reiatsu, that will make it easier." Rose was looking much relieved, and Byakuya wondered what emergency might be had to require Orihime's services for which someone in the Fourth Division would not suffice. He did not, of course, inquire. If there were one thing he respected, it was privacy.

A servant brought a _haori_, which Byakuya slipped on over his yukata while making his way to the door. Outside, he took a moment to feel for Orihime's reiatsu; after the last shunpou lesson and how they had permeated each other with their reiatsu, hers was almost as familiar to him as his own, or Rukia's. Even from this distance, though it took some focusing, he could feel her distinctly.

He turned to Rose. "I will bring her to your headquarters."

Rose, again, looked surprised. "You can sense her from here?" Byakuya just stared at him; was his offer acceptable or not? "Of course. Thank you. Please meet me at the Third." He flash-stepped away.

Byakuya fine-tuned his awareness of Orihime's location, then aimed himself that way. It took over a half-hour to flash-step to the 36th District, where the surroundings were beginning to look less aristocratic, like in the lower-numbered districts, but had not quite begin to take a dive toward the shabby. The bar was poorly-lit and low-ceilinged, and Byakuya had to dip his head to keep from brushing the top of the door jamb.

A quick peer around the smoky interior showed him that he knew none of the patrons, but Orihime's reiatsu was clearly present, as were those of his sister and lieutenant and various other powerful shinigami; there must be another room. A cry of _kanpai _arose from the rear, and Byakuya made his way in that direction. He had almost stepped through the door when he heard Renji's booze-soaked voice slur, "Taichou?"

The room was filled with Gotei 13 officers, all seated around a single large table in varying stages of having enjoyed the establishment's offerings. Orihime sat at the far end of the table between Matsumoto and Hisagi, leaning sleepily against Hisagi as she peered out from under half-mast eyelids at the rambunctious proceedings around her with a little smile on her lips.

Byakuya made a mental note to give her a stern talking-to about shamelessness in public; every time he turned around, she was draping herself over the Ninth's lieutenant. Not that the man seemed to be objecting; at that moment, he appeared to be trying to slip an overly-nonchalant arm around Orihime's shoulders.

"It _is_ Kuchiki-taichou!" Renji said triumphantly. "And you said I was too drunk to tell if an elephant sat on my head, Rukia! Look! He's right there in front of us!"

The rest of the group acknowledged his presence with respectful, if wary, greetings. Rukia, of course, looked rapturous and stood to offer him her chair (he refused). Orihime, for her part, lit up in her usual beaming smile and waved happily at him, chirping, "I'm so glad you joined us, Byakuya-sama!"

"I am not joining you," he replied, "I have come to fetch you. One of your patients is in need."

Instantly, her smile dropped. "Oh, no!" She shrugged Hisagi's wandering arm from her shoulders and stood, wobbling a bit on the monumental shoes atop which she was perched. "I don't know what I can do to help someone in this state," she said, sounding very businesslike in spite of her inebriation, "but yes, please take me there."

They left the group chorusing farewells to them (well, to Orihime) in their wake. Outside, Orihime took a deep breath, obviously trying to clear her head. "What's wrong?" she asked him. "Who's having a problem? Where are we going?" She paused. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can do shunpou in this condition."

"It's fine," he said, taking her arm. "I do not know who is troubled, but Outoribashi-tachou came for you; we are going to the Third."

"Ah," she said as he launched them skyward. "It'll be Kira-kun, then. I was afraid of this."

They zipped through the air in silence. Byakuya wondered what she was thinking of- creating a plan of treatment for her ailing patient, perhaps? In spite of his general commitment to maintaining a sense of remote apathy with others unless it was prudent for him to become more involved in their lives, he found himself curious, not only about which mental demons might be tormenting Kira-fukutaichou this evening, but what Orihime would do to beat them back. Not that he would, of course, inquire.

Byakuya flashed them to a stop outside Kira's quarters; Rose was pacing back and forth in the hallway, clearly impatient for their arrival and looking relieved to see them.

"Kira-san has been... ailing... all evening," he said, picking his words with care. "He seemed subdued all day- more than usual, even- and then, not long ago, my 5th seat informed me that Kira-san appeared to be, uh, crying and talking to people who aren't there." He looked very uncomfortable. "Then he locked himself in the bathroom and refused to come out."

"You were right to come get me," Orihime told him, briefly touching his forearm. "I'll go in now."

She opened the door to Kira's quarters and crossed to the bathroom, all traces of awkwardness in the shoes gone as she focused on her work. A pull on the sliding door proved that it was, in fact, locked; Orihime touched a finger to the handle and a golden spark shot out. There was a a _zing!_ and a flare of light, and then she pushed the door open very gently. Rose made no attempt to shut it behind her, and Byakuya felt no shame in indulging his curiosity.

Orihime stopped short with a sharply indrawn breath, because Kira was laying in the tub, but the water was... pink? Rose stiffened and made to follow, but Byakuya stopped him.

"Let her work," he told his fellow captain.

"Oh, Kira-kun," he heard her say, with such sorrow in her voice.

Kira's head hung limply on the stalk of his neck. His thin chest heaved; it sounded like he was having trouble catching his breath. One arm was hanging outside the edge of the tub; it was uninjured, and limp fingers were still grasping the hilt of a wickedly-sharp dagger, but the other arm, under the water, was the source of its pinkish tint. He had scored his forearm deeply from wrist to elbow, and as she watched, a steady ribbon of red seeped from the wound to stain the water around the wound a darker shade.

"What happened tonight, Kira-kun?" she asked him as she knelt by the tub, heedless of the puddles that immediately drenched her knees.

"Nothing different from the usual," he said wearily, his voice listless. He turned his face away and wept, shudders wracking his body. "I can't stop going over the past. Their voices keep ringing in my head, over and over. I keep searching for the clues I missed, any hint that could have revealed what they were doing. Something I could have done to prevent it all!"

Orihime placed a hand on his damp shoulder, and he whipped his head back around to stare at her. His features were contorted with fear. "Worst of all, I don't know how to prevent it from happening again!"

"Happening _again_? Kira-kun, it's over. Aizen-sama was defeated and imprisoned. He's never getting out."

"We don't know that!" he whispered raggedly. "What he did to the Vaizards... my captain is one of them... what if Aizen's corruption can't ever be completely driven out? What if they're to wait until the right moment, and- and then _strike_?"

Orihime sucked in a breath. "Kira-kun," she began haltingly, "I know the Vaizards rather well, and they _hate _Aizen-sama. None of them would help him; I'm sure they'd all kill him if they had a chance."

"I don't mean they'd do it consciously," he moaned, shuddering. "Never on purpose. I know my captain is a good man. But... but they could have been programmed. Like Hinamori. Like _me_. Helpless to resist. All the suffering, and fighting, and death!" His voice rose as he became agitated. "Even you! They kidnapped and tortured and raped you, and because I didn't see anything, I couldn't stop them! I don't know how you can stand to even look at me!"

Byakuya felt his body jerk in surprise at Kira's words- Aizen and Ichimaru and Tousen, their Espada and Arrancar- they had tortured Orihime? Had _raped _her? Beside him, Rose's face was ashen.

Orihime blinked, feeling her chest constrict in shock. _How did he know? Who had told? _No, no, this was not the time for her to worry about that. This time was to help Kira. Later, once this was over, she could fall to pieces. At the moment, she had work to do.

Surreptitiously, she directed her healing fairies to come out and begin healing Kira. The gash in his arm, if left untended, would soon kill him. It was a good thing he hadn't managed to get the other arm, or she'd be resurrecting him instead of merely putting the pieces of his mind back together. While she was at it, she repaired the damage to his liver that all that drinking had caused.

She began to stroke his wet hair. "Kira-kun," she began, "I can look at you because _you _are a good man, too, who fought hard to put things right, once you knew how they had betrayed us." When he lifted an incredulous face to her, she smiled. "Let me explain how?"

Slowly he nodded.

"Firstly, Kira-kun, Aizen-sama, Ichimaru-sama, and Tousen-sama- they were masters at deception. They set up their plan over a century before putting it into motion. They went to incredible lengths to trick everyone. _Not _just you, Kira-kun. They tricked _everyone_, even the people closest to them. Hinamori-san, Hisagi-san, Komamura-taichou... none of them saw it, either. Are you somehow so much more perceptive than they are? Do you somehow have the ability to resist Aizen-sama's hypnosis when the rest of the Gotei 13- even the captains, even Yamamoto-soutaichou himself- can't?"

Kira stared at her, his face slack with shock and a desperate, pathetic hope.

"And secondly... Kira-kun, this happened so _long _ago. Ten years! Not so long to a shinigami, I suppose, but I was alive until recently, and to me, ten years is a long time!" Her smile this time was closer to her usual beam-of-sunshine style. "After enough time, any mistake can be forgiven, don't you think? Forgiveness and compassion are important things we all need to live. For other people, but for ourselves, too. We forget that we're people too, and deserve the same mercy as everyone else."

She studied his face a long moment. "As for the Vaizards... I think you're underestimating them. They are victims of Aizen-sama just like the rest of us. I think most of them have come to terms with what happened to them. If any of them haven't, I hope they come to talk with me, so I can help them. They've gotten a resolution, what we in the living world like to call closure, with Aizen-sama's defeat. They're trying to rebuild their lives like everyone else.

"If it makes you feel better to keep a close eye on them, you can do that, but... I think you'll be ruining a chance to have a good relationship with them. And ruining your own chance to leave the fear and mistrust behind you for good. So have some faith in your captain, Kira-kun! He's a nice guy!"

"How can you still trust, after what's been done to you?" he asked after a bleak moment's pause. "How do you stop seeing shadows around every corner?"

"I got tired of it," Orihime replied slowly. "It was exhausting. I just couldn't keep it up. And I guess believing in the good in people over the bad- that helps, too. I'm an optimist, which does get me into trouble, but for the most part I do okay, that way." She poked playfully at his forehead. "So cheer up, Kira-kun, okay? Life is nowhere near as awful as you think it is, and I'll make you believe it with me even if I have to drag you, kicking and screaming."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rim of the tub. "It might take exactly that," he muttered. "I hope you're up to it."

She pumped her fist into the air, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm definitely up for it! Red bean paste power!"

Kira popped one bright blue, slightly bloodshot, eye open to peer at her. "Red bean paste has power?"

"Un!" She nodded vigorously. "And wasabi, too! There's nothing they can't improve." She leant over him to pull his injured arm out of the water, studying the whole, unblemished length of his forearm. "How are you feeling? You should have all your blood back, so you should be feeling a little perkier now. Let's get you out of this tub, then you can go to sleep. I promise you'll feel better in the morning."

He didn't say yes, but he also didn't say no, so Orihime took that as assent and pulled the plug to let the pink water drain away. When she was done, and the tub was empty but for his pale, shrinking form, she patted his arm.

"Okay, Kira-kun, time to get out! We'll dry you off and get you into bed."

"I've got this," said Rose, coming to her side and helping her stand. She stepped back, watching as he hoisted Kira from the tub and wrapping his shivering, wet body in a yukata.

"Thank you, Orihime-san," Kira said faintly once he'd been bundled into his futon with a thick quilt over him. "I mean it, thank you. You got here just before I was going to- going to finish it."

"I know, Kira-san," she said softly, kneeling by his futon, and passed her hand over his damp hair, smoothing it. "We'll get you through this together, I promise."

She stayed there, stroking his hair, until a soft snore rose from him. She looked up at the two watching captains, and tried to rise. "Oops," she whispered when she staggered, "I think my legs are asleep. And these shoes aren't helping." She flashed an bashful grin at him and Rose. "So embarrassing! Stupid numb legs."

Byakuya helped her up, and assisted her from Kira's quarters while noticing that, while the shoes were indeed impractical, they did make Orihime's stupid numb legs look very long and slender and shapely. Then he banished that mental note as being thoroughly inappropriate for both the setting and the inspiration.

Rose slid the door shut behind them, and offered a returning smile that was shaky but grateful. "I'm so glad you came tonight, Inoue-sensei," he said. "I knew he was troubled, but didn't realize how deeply it went."

"I'll keep working on it with him. As long as he doesn't give up, he'll be fine, eventually. I'm glad you thought to get me." She paused, feeling awkward and unsure, but forged ahead. "Um, not too many people know the details of my time in Hueco Mundo, so don't tell anyone, okay? I don't even know how Kira-kun was aware of it."

"No one will hear of it. Ever," said Byakuya for both of them, and the look he shot at Rose foretold of significant pain if the other man did not comply. Rose quickly nodded.

With a final nod to Rose, Byakuya put an arm around Orihime's waist and flash-stepped them from Third Division. She gripped his wrist so tightly that he could feel his bones shift. He didn't say a word about it, as his mind was in turmoil.

He was angry and confused, outraged and frustrated. He wanted to _do _something, to avenge Orihime's pain, to punish those who had caused it, but there was nothing to do. All the parties involved, Aizen and Ichimaru and Tousen and the majority of the Espada, were dead or, in Aizen's case, imprisoned for 20,000 years. He could only stand there and wish impotently for an opportunity that would never arise.

A tide of rage and loathing erupted in him once more at the thought of what had been inflicted on her. She was so fragile in body (though in spirit, he was coming to learn that she was a veritable lion). It went against the fabric of his soul to abuse someone so vulnerable. The very point of strength was to use it to protect the weak. Employing it to harm another in one's power was a perversion. And to someone who lived only to make others happy, like Orihime? It was an abomination.

How could she look past it, and still love? For all that he'd been wounded in battle, he'd never been made helpless, at the mercy of another's whims. He'd never endured ongoing, intentional suffering. The most he'd suffered was a broken heart in the wake of Hisana's death, and he'd reacted by closing it off to spare himself further pain, and now Byakuya felt shame at his own cowardice.

He thought he'd done it for the sake of dignity and pride, but as he flash-stepped through Seireitei toward his family's manor, he saw it for what it was: fear. It took far more courage to crack open one's chest and risk agony than it did to hide one's heart behind a steel door.

When they arrived home, Rukia and Renji were there, sitting in the lounge with the shouji walls open to the night air. Both stood when Byakuya alighted on the veranda with Orihime clasped to his side.

"Are you alright?" Rukia asked quietly.

"I'm fine, Rukia-chan," Orihime herself said as Byakuya set her on her feet, but her face was wan. "Just sad. And still a bit drunk. It's a strange combination."

"And your patient?" inquired Renji. "It was Kira, wasn't it? Will he be okay?"

"I think he'll be fine, eventually," she said. "Please remember to take care of him."

"We will. We all will," Renji promised. With a bow, he took his leave.

"I'll help you to bed," Rukia offered, but Orihime shook her head.

"I'd actually like to take a little walk before I go to bed, Rukia-chan, but thank you," she said, and headed off toward the river. Byakuya and Rukia watched her go.

"I guess I'll just... go to bed," Rukia muttered, looking worried. She gave a slight bow to Byakuya. "Goodnight, Nii-sama."

"Goodnight, Rukia," he replied, his gaze never leaving Orihime, watching as she wobbled down the path heading to the little bridge.

The moon was nearly full that night, and its light flooded the lawn between the house and the river. Orihime had reached the bridge but stopped, and seemed to be contorting herself in an attempt to reach her feet. It appeared that she was trying to remove the high-heeled shoes. Byakuya took a single flash-step and reached her in a second.

"Ah," she said, looking up at him from where she was trying to balance against the bridge railing with one hand while the other attempted to pry free the shoe's ankle strap. "The bridge is very steep. If I try to walk on it in these things, I'll break something, I just know it."

Byakuya gave the issue no thought, no thought at all; he knelt at Orihime's feet and wrapped his hand around her ankle. She froze, and blinked down at him with huge, surprised eyes.

"Byakuya-sama," she murmured. There was something surprised-but-pleased in her tone, and Byakuya found he liked it quite a bit.

"Hold on to the railing," he commanded gently, and she straightened, placing her hands behind her on the bridge rail.

Byakuya lifted her foot to rest on his thigh, enjoying the flex of her muscles as she redistributed her weight to her other leg. Her ankle was tiny; he could almost circle it with his fingers. The buckle was a fussy affair; no wonder she couldn't undo it without help, especially tipsy and in the dark. He made short work of it, then eased her foot from the shoe and let her place it on the ground.

"Byakuya-sama," Orihime whispered again. He looked up to find her staring down at him, lips parted and breath coming faster. The moonlight silvered her hair and features, gliding lovingly down the contours of her face and glimmering in her wide eyes. Her voice had pitched lower, and there was a note of wonderment, almost of discovery, to it. He found he liked that even more, and curled his hand around the back of her other calf to bring her still-shod foot to his other knee.

Something had changed abruptly in him, in the way he thought of Orihime. She had gone from being Rukia's slight nuisance of a friend to something of a friend of his own, and now his awareness of her as a woman shivered between them in a way he'd never expected could be possible. He ran his hand from her calf down to cup the back of her ankle, holding her foot steady, as his other hand worked to unbuckle the strap.

And his eyes never left hers, watching carefully for every nuance of change. He saw when her eyelids lowered to half-mast, when her lashes flickered in pleasure at his touch.

"Byakuya-sama," she said for the third time. There was a rasp to her voice that had him feeling primitive and reckless, as if any moment he might fling her onto the grass and rut wildly with her.

He wanted to slide his hands along her legs, to ruck her skirt up as he went, bunching it at her waist before peeling down her panties. He wanted to smooth his palms over the roundness of her thighs, then in to reach with his thumbs to spread her open to the cooling night air. He wanted to press his face against her, to lick deep into her and taste her, to feel her shimmy her hips and buck back at him for more, more. And something, something told him she would let him.

He removed the shoe and relinquished her foot; slowly, almost reluctantly, she drew it back. He got to his feet and handed her the shoes, letting them dangle by the straps until she took them from him. She stared stupidly at them for a long moment, as if confused by them.

"Those things will be the death of you," he said lightly, and flash-stepped away.


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: ZOMG, how long a hiatus was that? I'm so sorry! I'm slammed at work and have almost no free time anymore- good thing this story is mostly written and I just have to diddle it a little bit to get things into publishable shape! I hope to continue publishing as usual, a chapter every few weeks. If I forget, be sure to review because those emails remind me that I need to get my kiester into gear and do up another chapter!**

**Note about the language: the -ue suffix is used to denote that they are talking about Byakuya almost like he's royal, or holy; O- before a name is like -sama after i, but old-style; and the stilted formality during the girls' chat with the old'uns is meant to be unnatural-feeling and stuffy. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think!**

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 12**

Orihime barely slept at all, the night before her first day in the South Rukongai free clinic, and was consequently bleary-eyed at breakfast, staring dully into her bowl of miso soup and needing Rukia to repeat everything three times until the other girl just gave up on talking to her.

The hour of shunpou it took to travel from the Kuchiki estate to the clinic was much the same; Orihime spent it lost in thought and subsequently continually having to correct her route and narrowly avoid splatting herself on some poor bugger's rooftop.

She had a lot to think about, after all: she had to alter her treatment plan for him, now that he was provably suicidal. And she was wondering who'd spilled the beans on the less-than-fun hospitality she'd "enjoyed" in Hueco Mundo, and hoping the eavesdropping captains Kuchiki and Otourobashi hadn't heard much, but if they had, they'd keep their traps shut about it.

It was like pulling teeth, getting Byakuya to talk anyway, so she doubted he'd go blabbing it about Seireitei. And Rose didn't seem the type to gossip, either, so she was going to just have to hope neither of them would mention it ever again. Bleh. How was she supposed to forget the past when other people kept bringing it up?

And speaking of Byakuya... Orihime was not ashamed to admit to herself that she was freaking out, just the tiniest bit, about his odd behavior from that night. She was willing to chalk up a goodly portion of the weirdness to her tipsiness (and don't think she had not already made a solemn vow to cut back on the sake, because boy howdy, _had _she: two saucers was her limit now, sipped _not _shotgunned, no matter how much stupid Ikkaku teased and goaded her to have more) but _wow, _Byakuya had been sexy enough to give her a nosebleed that night.

It might have been plenty, the way he'd stared up at her with those heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, and it would definitely have been plenty just to feel his fingertips at her ankles (who knew the ankles could be such sensitive erogenous zones!), but the feel of those slender fingers and warm palms sliding up her legs and holding her ankles had had Orihime very hard-pressed to keep from moaning and, perhaps, begging him to take her.

There had just been something about how he'd looked at her, like there was an ocean of words he wasn't saying. Orihime had been learning how to read Byakuya's silences for weeks now, and she was pretty sure that he was thinking quite a lot of dirty, naughty, sure-to-be-wonderful things. Which was fine, because she'd been entertaining a few of those herself.

And now she didn't know how to act around Byakuya, and was afraid of things becoming weird between them and having him be repulsed by her acting gawky and strange. Well, _more _strange. He'd tolerated a lot of strangeness from her, but she knew he'd have a limit, and she wasn't eager to experience the humiliation of having him hit that limit and break off their fragile friendship.

It was probably all in her head, because didn't she have a proven track record of unrequited attraction? _Oh, Orihime, you complete dummy, _she told herself sadly, _that way lies heartache._ She made another vow, right then, to a) put any thoughts of attraction behind her, no matter how sexy Byakuya was, and b) act completely regular to him, just like she was with Uryuu and Sado and Renji and Toushirou.

Well, maybe not Toushirou, because she did tend to cuddle him a bit, and she was fairly certain that should she attempt to cuddle Byakuya, he would assault her in retaliation.

But yes! She would act neutral and friendly and happy with him, like she was with all her men friends, and once she knew where she was headed with her life (unlife? death? sometimes she felt like a zombie, and wouldn't that be fun? though brains were not at all tasty without a liberal application of butter and jam, she'd found) she'd move out of the estate and into her own place and then not have to see him for breakfast and dinner.

And Orihime would do without the evening walks around the estate's grounds, and then relaxing together afterwards in the cozy sitting room, even though it had become her favorite part of the day. She'd just find something else to be her favorite part of the day, that was all.

"Fight-o!" she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air to generate some enthusiasm since she felt not-at-all inspired by any of this. The various peasants on the street below her glanced up at the noise- it wasn't everyday they saw a woman flash-stepping overhead- but she forged on. Enough stewing over that stuff; today was a new leaf turning over in the book of her life!

She was so happy that Isane had asked her to participate. Not only would she be helping those too poor to afford doctors on their own, but this would be a wonderful opportunity for her to practice kidou healing. She'd been taught to do it years earlier by Unohana-taichou but never really used that much, as well as fine-tune her usage of her own time-reversal type of healing. While she knew she could heal several people at once, would she be able to heal larger numbers of patients at the same time? If so, how many?

And did she need to focus on who she was healing, or could she just send the fairies out to do their thing and trust them to get the job done without her? Because that way, she could use kidou to heal while the fairies healed other people, healing a greater number more rapidly. In an emergency or wartime situation, that could make a significant difference...

Thus were Orihime's thoughts as she flash-stepped out to the Fiftieth District, where Isane was meeting her for her first day. To her delight, Hanatarou was there as well, and they flung themselves at each other for an exuberant hug.

"Orihime-chan, I'm so glad you're helping us!" Hanatarou exclaimed with a big smile. "I was so worried about what would happen to the people in South Rukongai if there were no one to take Kazumi-san's place."

"I'm happy to help!" Orihime replied, hands on hips as she surveyed the shabby street on which the clinic was located. It was not paved, and every wheel and foot that passed over it raised a cloud of dust. She gave a little cough and wondered if she would need a mask to get through the day without hacking and wheezing.

The clinic itself was nothing more than an empty store, not in the best shape of its existence, outside of which Isane had placed a sandwich board announcing low-cost and free healing.

"I put 'low-cost' because some of the patients are very proud and won't take charity," Isane explained. "And a lot of them bring in goods to trade for healing, because money isn't used too much out past the Forty-Ninth District."

Sometimes you'll get a live chicken or piglet," said Hanatarou with a laugh as he started sweeping the dirty floor. "I just try to hand those off to a hungry-looking family, because there's nowhere to keep them in the barracks at the Fourth."

"And I doubt Kuchiki-taichou would let you keep them on his estate!" added Isane, blushing a bit at the thought of the handsome, remote captain.

"That's for sure," Orihime agreed, repressing a grin as she tried to imagine Byakuya's reaction to her bringing a piglet home. It would probably be worth the hassle of having to tote the piglet back to a deserving family afterwards, just to see what he would do and say.

Just before they opened for "business", Isane took Orihime aside for a few quiet words. "I try not to be alone with any of the male patients," she said in a low voice. "The majority of the healing can be done in the main room with everyone watching. If a man has an illness that needs to be tended in private, tell him you will either need another woman present with you, or you will have a male healer come back in a few days to help him. That tends to weed out the ones who just want to try something with you."

Orihime's eyebrows shot up. "Does that happen often?"

"At least once a day," Isane replied with a grimace. "But if it's a man with a genuine problem, they won't be phased by having another woman present for the examination, or having a male healer come back later." She gave Orihime a quick grin. "And you're hardly defenseless yourself, so you'll do fine."

Hanatarou had finished sweeping and was flinging open the door to their first patients.

"Here they come!" announced Isane, grinning at Orihime. "Hope you're ready!"

Orihime rolled up her sleeves. "As I'll ever be!" She offered a smile at the first patient, an elderly lady with a pronounced curve to her back. "Welcome, please come over here and sit down..."

* * *

Orihime was very excited at the end of her first day healing. Her commute home was nowhere near as plagued by worrisome thoughts as her travel that morning had been; now, she was too happy at how many people she had helped, and tired, to think about much of anything.

She was, admittedly, not the best of company that evening; she barely said a word through dinner, and her walk around the pond with the Kuchiki siblings and Renji consisted of Rukia and Renji arguing over some movie they'd seen years ago in the living world while Byakuya kept up his usual flow of conversation (that is to say, none at all) and Orihime tried to hide her many yawns and thought longingly of her futon. Despite her fatigue, though, she couldn't wait to go back again and hoped Isane would let her know the next date to do it.

She excused herself to bed as soon as they returned to the house from the walk, and forced herself to spend a half-hour working on the Seaweed Ambassador plushie she was making for Byakuya before allowing herself to finally conk out. The next morning, she slept in a bit and felt much better for it.

It was very surprising, at breakfast, to learn that Rukia was not going to work at the Thirteenth Division that day.

"Every so often, I have to meet with the women of the clan," Rukia explained, her voice carefully neutral even as she chanced a look at her brother from across the table. "As Nii-sama is not married, I act as a sort of proxy in place of his wife, so on days like these, the ladies of Kuchiki keep me informed of things they feel I should be aware of, and try to convince me to allow them to arrange a marriage for me."

Orihime blinked. "But..." she began, then stopped, biting her lip to keep from blurting out something inappropriate about Renji. "...oh," she finished lamely. "You don't... I mean, you _wouldn't_..."

"_No_," Rukia answered firmly. "I would never have an arranged marriage." She bowed in apology to Byakuya. "I'm sorry, Nii-sama, but not even to advance the family or strengthen your claim as head of the clan would I marry a stranger."

He inclined his head in response, a regal gesture from over the letter he was reading. "I married for love; I can hardly expect you to do otherwise."

"_Aw_," cooed Orihime, stopping abruptly when he shot her a repressive look from behind the letter. She shot Rukia a cheeky grin, and Rukia returned it.

"If you want, you can sit in on the meeting," Rukia offered. "It's... it's not very fun, I won't lie to you, but maybe if you're there it will... suck less?" She heaved a sigh. "It's really very boring, and the women are very snobby and rude in a strangely polite way. Half the time, I don't know I'm being insulted until hours later."

Orihime thought that sounded interesting, if not precisely a barrel of laughs. "I'd like to see it at least once, so, yes! I will come with you." She plucked at her blouse and skirt from the living world. "But you'll have to lend me some kimonos."

Rukia laughed. "No worries there, I have enough to outfit the entire Gotei, thanks to Nii-sama." She beamed an adoring smile at him; he flicked an amused glance over the letter at her.

"Green," he murmured.

"Eh?" Rukia asked, her mouth full of rice, before swallowing hastily, wiping her mouth with her napkin, and starting over. "Apologies, Nii-sama, but what about green?"

"You have a set of kimonos in various shades of green. I recommend you lend them to Orihime-san," he clarified, putting aside the letter and standing to leave for the day. "Until this evening."

After he was gone, and they'd finished eating, Rukia had her maid fetch the green kimonos. It took both her and the maid to strap Orihime into the elaborate, multi-layered set, but it was worth it- though heavy, it was exquisite, and Orihime felt like a princess as she waddled along in it to Rukia's room, where the maid would assist her in donning her own kimonos, these in shades of blue ranging from sky to cobalt to cerulean.

Then their hair was arranged, and their faces powdered, and their cheeks and lips lightly rouged. Once they were completely accoutred, they stood and wobbled across the estate to the formal meeting chamber. The charms dangling from Orihime's hair chimed gently with each step, and she was struck for a moment how surreal it all felt. She was just a normal modern girl, but here she was making her way through a thousand-year-old mansion in traditional garb to meet with a room full of noblewomen. It didn't seem like it could, or even should, be happening.

They entered the room. It was very large, with a high beamed ceiling, and a dais on the far side. About a dozen women, just as formally clothed as Orihime and Rukia, sat within- half on each side facing the center, so they formed a sort of aisle down the center toward the dais. It was down this aisle that Rukia walked; not knowing what else to do, Orihime followed her. As they promenaded, the women bowed very low over their crossed hands, until their foreheads almost touched the pristine tatami floor.

"Sit here, Orihime-chan," Rukia murmured, indicating a spot to her side before kneeling. Orihime, very grateful for the direction, sank to her own knees with alacrity.

"Rukia-sama has been so kind as to honor us by including her esteemed guest in our discussion," murmured one of the ladies. Orihime noticed that they were all rather elderly, and the one who had spoken seemed the most ancient of the bunch, with pure white hair and a faceful of distinguished wrinkles. For all that she'd spoken with exquisite courtesy and an utterly neutral tone, however, Orihime got the feeling the woman was anything but honored by the presence of Rukia's supposedly esteemed guest.

But Rukia was nothing if not loyal. "Yes," she said clearly, "Inoue-dono is a very important friend, as well as a powerful shinigami in her own right. We are all honored that she has deigned to reside here with us." She flicked an amused glance at her friend, mischief sparkling in her big blue eyes.

"Of course," agreed the old woman, no hint of annoyance on her face but somehow managing to convey it all the same.

Thus commenced the most boring, yet confusing, hour of Orihime's life. These women spoke the most formal, convoluted, remote version of acutely polite speech she'd ever heard, the conversation taking place almost entirely in ancient, Edo-era Japanese. She supposed it must be a lot like modern English-speaking people trying to comprehend the odd pronunciations and unusual wordings used in the works of Shakespeare and Chaucer.

"Byakuya-ue will have to make the final approval, of course, but this one foresees no difficulties with permitting the marriage of our precious cousin to a scion of the house of Kyouraku," the elderly lady, whose name was O-jun Orihime had learned, said after a very long period of yapping about various dull issues. Orihime was starting to believe her knee joints had fused and she'd never be able to stand or walk again.

"Nii-sama has been wanting a connection between the families for decades, no matter his personal opinion of Kyouraku-taichou," stated Rukia with a sliver of a grin. "This one anticipates his agreement as well."

There was a pause. "These ones have no further issues to bring before Rukia-sama," O-jun said. As one, the other ten or so women bowed formally again, then stood and backed from the huge room, eyes downcast. Orihime wondered how they managed it without falling over.

O-jun herself, however, remained kneeling even after it was just the three of them left. "Would Rukia-sama be so good as to spare a moment for this unworthy one?" asked the elderly woman, with an exquisite bow over her crossed hands.

"Of course this one would be honored to grant O-jun's request," Rukia answered smoothly, bowing from her neck in a most autocratic fashion, Orihime felt.

"Rukia-sama's kindness honors us all," said O-jun as she straightened with a grace that belied her age.

Orihime was starting to feel suffocated by the extreme politeness, and made to excuse herself so as to give them some privacy.

"If this one might be so rude as to beg Inoue-dono's indulgence, it is this one's belief that Inoue-dono might benefit from this discussion as well," O-jun said, her voice soft and utterly lacking in inflection; however, Orihime got the distinct impression it was basically an order. She gulped and remained kneeling.

"Um... this one is honored to be included in O-jun's conversation with Rukia-sama," Orihime improvised, feeling like an idiot. It seemed to satisfy O-jun, however, for the old woman nodded and turned back to Rukia.

"Rukia-sama is aware that this one, as well as the other clan elders, are bold enough to have the highest of expectations for Byakuya-ue," stated O-jun.

"As is only fitting for one of Nii-sama's lineage and accomplishments," replied Rukia immediately. "Anything less exalted would be the gravest of insults."

"Exactly so," agreed O-jun. "And yet not once but twice this century alone, Byakuya-ue has presented the family with choices that many feel have compromised the impeccable history of the clan's lineage."

"Indeed," said Rukia slowly. Orihime was still clueless as to the point of this interaction, but saw Rukia was beginning to understand... something.

"The confidence of the clan elders has been somewhat shaken by these choices," O-jun continued. "They worry that the same... puzzling... logic that informed Byakuya-ue's decisions could lead Byakuya-ue to make other decisions of flawed intent, decisions that could jeopardize the integrity of the Kuchiki clan that has lasted these many millennia. And as Rukia-sama is aware that that integrity is of utmost priority, the elders would have no choice but to remove the position of clan head to a Kuchiki for whom such power and symbolism would be more appropriate."

Orihime scarcely managed to stifle her gasp of surprise when she realized what O-jun was saying: the clan elders were suspicious of Byakuya's fitness to head the family, since he'd made the fatal errors of marrying Hisana and then adopting Rukia. She had an idea that he'd had to fight like hell to push both of those through, since she doubted the elders would have welcomed either commoner into their esteemed family.

And now they were warning Rukia that Byakuya was on his last chance with them- one more infraction, and they would strip him of his status as clan head. This was serious; this was shocking. But why were they telling _Rukia_? Why not tell Byakuya himself?

Rukia was silent so long after O-jun's pronouncement that Orihime began to wonder if she would answer at all. "This one is sure that O-jun has a specific reason for presenting such a concern to her instead of to Nii-sama himself," she said at last. Ah, so Rukia didn't get it, either. Orihime felt a little less stupid.

"This unworthy one holds Byakuya-ue in highest regard, and would hope to spare him any unpleasantness," O-jun replied easily. "This one would hope to solve any problems before they might be presented, and thus continue to serve Byakuya-ue with utmost efficiency and without any incidents that might impact the clan's honor."

So they were trying to prevent something, nip it in the bud, before it even had to get to Byakuya. Hm. But what?

"O-jun surely has a specific scenario in mind that she would like to share with this unworthy one," prompted Rukia. There was an edge to her voice; Orihime felt sure that her friend was in danger of reaching the end of her patience.

"The elders have become aware of an affection that Rukia-sama holds for one of the members of the Gotei 13," said O-jun. "Despite this lieutenant's distinguished service to the Gotei 13, and his position as protégé to Byakuya-ue, they feel it a problematic match, and thus it cannot be recognized."

Orihime's eyes bugged out; was O-jun saying that the Kuchikis would never permit Rukia to be with Renji? Rukia just threaded her fingers together in her lap until her knuckles were white, and waited for O-jun to continue.

"However, due to Byakuya-ue's connection to this esteemed lieutenant, and his customary indulgence of Rukia-sama's wishes, the elders feel he would champion such a match instead of of refuse it. This would bring him into another conflict with the elders."

Ah, there it was: they were afraid that Byakuya would fight them to allow Rukia to be with Renji, and if he did, they would remove him from his position as head of the family. Which was a rotten thing to do, because supporting Rukia's love for Renji- and his for her, which shone as brightly as the sun itself- would be the best, most honorable and decent thing in the world. Orihime had little doubt that Byakuya would support them with all his considerable might. The fact that this nasty old woman and her equally nasty fellow elders thought it was a bad move and wanted to block it made Orihime very upset.

"This one dares to venture, however, that the possibility for an alternative- one that would satisfy Rukia-sama, her esteemed lieutenant, and the clan- exists." O-jun was looking pretty pleased with herself; Orihime had an idea that this alternative might satisfy the family but probably no one else.

Rukia lifted her gaze from where she'd been staring at her clasped hands and fixed them coldly on O-jun. "This one is eager to hear of such a... superlative option," she snapped.

O-jun's faded eyes took on a smug glint, as if she'd just been waiting for Rukia's composure to fail her. "The elders feel that if Rukia-sama were to leave the clan, and be Kuchiki no more, then any bonds she chose to forge with her esteemed lieutenant- or anyone else, for that matter- would be irrelevant to the Kuchiki family."

Orihime was not alone in her gasp this time- Rukia drew in an involuntary breath of surprise as well. "Kuchiki no more?" she whispered.

Being a Kuchiki was more trouble than it was worth, it seemed to Orihime. Once you got past the gorgeous estate and nigh-unimaginable riches, noblility didn't seem like it was any great shakes. It did seem to mean something profound to Rukia, however. Her huge blue eyes were filling with tears, and she was blinking furiously to keep them under control.

"O-jun has certainly given Rukia-sama some valuable information, which she will want to think about," Orihime said quickly. "May this unworthy one humbly request that Rukia-sama now be given time to consider it?"

O-jun bowed deeply, then rose to her feet in a graceful movement. "This one thanks Rukia-sama and Inoue-dono for their gracious acceptance of this unworthy one's conversation." She backed away to the edge of the room, turned and walked out.

"Rukia-chan-" Orihime began once they were alone, but the other girl cut her off with a slight motion of her hand.

"Not here," Rukia muttered, her face stiff. "Everyone is watching. We must sit here for a while longer, so they don't suspect we are running inside to lick our wounds."

"Wounds? Was this a battle?" Orihime asked, feeling dazed by the viciously barbed insults and threats garbed in such vague and excruciatingly polite speech. She felt more exhausted and apprehensive after than than she had after most of her fights against Hollows and Arrancar.

"Of course it was," replied Rukia. She was staring off toward a distant corner of the room, and on her face was an expression of the most heartbreaking distress.

"Do you know why they chose now to make their move?" Orihime asked.

"I am so stupid." A faint smile curved Rukia's lips, and her face took on a dreamy cast. "I should have known that, even at night, they would have eyes everywhere." At Orihime frown of confusion, she continued, "When we walk after dinner, and Renji and I go off alone... we don't just argue when we're by ourselves in the dark."

"Oh, Rukia-chan," Orihime said softly. They had finally found their way to each other, after so much time and distance and heartache. She bit down on her lip to keep her composure, because she wanted nothing more than to cry a few happy tears for her friends. "That's wonderful. I'm so glad."

"I was, too, until just now." Rukia began blinking again, trying to control the tears that threatened once more. "These past ten years since Nii-sama has begun treating me like a true sister... they've been the best years of my life. I never dreamed I'd have such a thing... that I'd have a family, even if it's just one person. I never realized how much I wanted it. And now, if I want to be with Renji, I have to give it up."

She sniffled, somehow managing to make even that look elegant. "How am I supposed to give my brother up?'

"Rukia-chan, has it been long enough yet? Can we leave this room now?" Orihime was at the end of her rope.

"Yes, I think so..." Rukia was cut off when Orihime grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her feet, then dragged her from the room and through the house to her own bedroom. Once in there, she released Rukia, put her face in her hands, and began to bawl.

"Oh, Orihime-chan, don't..." Rukia touched her friend's heaving shoulder. "Don't because if you do, I will too..."

But Orihime didn't stop, and Rukia started to cry, too. They sobbed until they were exhausted, their eyes were swollen, and their heads were pounding, and then they collapsed on Orihime's futon, Rukia face down, her head buried in the gorgeously soft quilt, while Orihime stared blindly up at the ceiling.

"It's not that being a Kuchiki is so wonderful," Rukia said into the quilt, her voice muffled. "I don't care about money, or power, or this stupid estate. I want to be with Renji. I'm finally starting to feel like I've earned it, the right to be with him."

"Rukia-chan!" Orihime sat up quickly, shocked to hear this from her usually assertive, confident friend. "Of course you have!"

"Never mind that part." Rukia rolled to her back and offered a limp smile to her friend. "The main issue is that... Nii-sama has only just started acting like I'm a precious sister to him. When he was finally able to tell me about Hisana-nee-san, and why he adopted me, and was able to get out from under the weight of his promises... I'm really his sister. He's really my brother. I _love _him. And I don't want to lose him, not just yet."

She propped herself up on her elbows "I want to keep him as my brother a little while longer... one day, when I'm stronger and more ready to give him up, I'll leave the Kuchiki family and go to Renji. But just not yet, okay, Orihime? Just not yet."

Orihime burst into tears once more; she couldn't help it. Rukia sat up, put her arms around Orihime, and began crying again as well.

Then the shoji door was thrown open with a bang.

"What's wrong?" demanded Renji. Behind him, Byakuya stood silently in the hallway. "Your reiatsu is all over the place. Taichou and I could feel it from Sixth Division." Renji noticed that the girls were upset, and his voice gentled. "Ah, Rukia, Orihime-chan, what's wrong?" He knelt beside the futon and reached out a huge hand to cup Rukia's dark head. "Tell me, so I can fix it."

Rukia leaned into his caress and closed her eyes. "Some things you can't fix," she murmured. "But thanks."

"You sure?" Renji lowered his bright head until his forehead rested against hers. "I'll do anything to make you feel better. You know that."

"I know that." Rukia opened her eyes, gazing up into his face with such love that Orihime felt a lump form in her throat. She looked past them to where Byakuya hovered in the doorway, watching, and knew he was seeing the same thing she was. Hurriedly, she stood and went to him.

"Can we give them a moment alone?" she asked, and when he nodded, slipped past him into the hallway, leaving him to slide shut the door.

She made her way out toward the lawn, aiming across it toward the river. It wasn't until she got there that she realized she was standing at the foot of the little red bridge where Byakuya had sexily removed her shoes, and that he'd followed her there. _Oopsie_.

"You will tell me the cause of that outburst," he commanded softly. His eyes were intent upon her face, and she realized that, having been crying up a storm, she probably was a fright of swollen eyes and red nose. Possibly there was some snot smeared somewhere.

She stared up at him, horribly conflicted. Part of her wanted to confide in Byakuy, feeling complete trust that somehow, he'd be able to fix everything and Rukia would be able to marry Renji and he himself could remain principal of the hosue of Kuchiki.

But another part of her was stricken with terror at the consequences warned of by O-jun; heading his family, and maintaining its dignity and honor as an extension of his own, was the most important aspect of his life. It defined him, gave him purpose, drove most of his choices and decisions. Removing it would most likely destroy him from shame, and Orihime knew she could never live with herself if she was the reason it happened.

"I can't tell you," Orihime whispered miserably. She scrubbed at one damp eye with a fist. "I wish I could, and I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Is my sister's safety in jeopardy?" he persisted.

"No, no, no," Orihime rushed to say, waving her hands back and forth for emphasis.

"Is yours?"

Aw, he cared. "No, it was nothing dangerous or anything like that. Mostly just, uh, emotional girl stuff."

She chanced a glance up through her tear-wet lashes, and found him staring down at her, a hint of irritation in the tenseness around his mouth, but if anyone understood the concept of obligation, duty, and loyalty, it was he.

He said nothing, just nodded shortly. "You will inform me if the situation deteriorates," he stated, and this time, there was steel in it; he would not be so accepting if it got worse. He was such a good, protective older brother. Orihime gave a little squee to herself over it.

"Okay," she said, because if it ever came to pass where Rukia decided to marry Renji, she'd leave the family and Byakuya would be entirely aware of it, so Orihime wouldn't have any secret to keep at that point. She was totally not lying to him by agreeing. Totally.

She turned, hitched her copious kimono skirts up, and wobbled up the bridge's steep incline to its apex. "Ugh," she said, with feeling, and leaned heavily against the railing to stare down into the rushing water below. "Why does life always have to be so complicated?"

Byakuya halted at her side, having followed her onto the bridge. "Complication is a by-product of civilization. You would prefer we were still primitives living in caves?" he inquired, his concern of before shifting into a sort of wary amusement.

Orihime grimaced. "I don't think you have to take it quite that far," she replied. Only Byakuya would take her statement and turn it into the impetus for a philosophical discussion. Crazy man. She was glad for the distraction from the unhappy thoughts, however, and launched happily in a debate of the subject.

It was only much later when Orihime was in bed, about to fall asleep, that she realized that he'd done it on purpose to get her mind off her miseries. _Crazy man_, she thought, and smiled into the darkness.


	14. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm very sorry this has taken so long to get out. My job is slowly making me give up on life. HOWEVER, I plan on finishing this damned thing if it kills me! (it just might)**

**Anyhoosits, this story is now dedicated to pheecat and every other girl or woman out there who is struggling to make sense of life and love and how complicated it all can be. **

**Become a Ghost**

by HardlyFatal

**Chapter 13**

Orihime awoke one day with a knowledge that was somehow thrilling and awful at the same time.

Orihime knew that she was falling for Byakuya; falling hard, in fact, so hard that it was going to hurt like hell when the inevitable happened. The inevitable, of course, being the horrible and undeniable fact that it was impossible for them to be together. She could try to pretend for a while that it _was _possible, could indulge herself in dreams of kisses and lovemaking, but ultimately, in the end, there was too much at stake for each of them. For him, the risk was the loss of his position as head and leader of his family clan.

For her, the risk was to lose her heart completely and have to try to survive without it. The pangs of longing she felt when he said something funny, or interesting, or clever... the angle of his cheek when they walked in the moonlight after supper... the graceful arc of throat, or shining lock of hair in the lamplight as he wrote letters... she wanted to touch him, to caress and kiss him, to do things she had no right to do.

She knew she could be a bit of a dim bulb when it came to some things, but even she could not continue to be so oblivious that she missed the hints and cues that had been creeping up on her over the past few weeks.

Byakuya joking, Byakuya allowing her to tease him, Byakuya teaching her shunpou and permitting her to give him a picnic... Byakuya displaying his bankai, and holding onto her so tightly as they flew over Seireitei just to make her feel better after she broke her nose... Byakuya smoldering like a sex god of yore as he removed her shoes... Byakuya engaging her in a philosophical discussion when she knew darned well he'd prefer to enjoy the silence, again to distract and cheer her up.

These were not the actions of the detached, apathetic Byakuya that 99.99% of the world got. Orihime knew, she _knew_, that he would not have done any of that for just anyone. She even harbored a niggling little scrap of doubt he'd have done it for Rukia herself.

So now that she suspected that he might actually return the attraction she felt for him- she wouldn't go so far to think he might actually be tumbling headlong into love with her the way she was with him- it was becoming harder and harder for her to behave normally around him. After a few days of bumbling and blushing and stammering, Orihime decided she had to put some distance between them before she exploded in a palpitating storm of hormones and frustrated emotion.

Thus it was that after she and Rukia had been discovered crying like fools that Orihime asked Isane if she could work at the free clinic in South Rukongai on a daily basis, not just once a week. Isane, a little confused but delighted to have quality healing available to those unfortunates, agreed readily.

And so Orihime began waking at sunrise, gulping down a hasty breakfast brought to her by a sleepy-eyed servant before the Kuchiki siblings had woken, and shooting off in her best shunpou toward her new occupation. She would spend her precious few _kan _on lunch (if she remembered to eat at all), then work late and return home after dark. She was exhausted, but it gave an excellent excuse for her to eat the cold supper left for her, shine the brightest smile she could muster at her friends, and shuffle off to bed, just to do it all again the next day.

It was hard; she missed him terribly. Missed seeing him in the morning as they had breakfast with Rukia, missed having dinner with him at night, missed the evening walk through the manor's grounds and the companionable hobby-work they all engaged in. It was a sense of belonging and family she'd longed for since her brother's death so long ago, and forcibly cutting herself off from it hurt like an open wound.

Still, better this than the alternative, revealing to Byakuya her feelings for him and being rejected, or worse, ruining his life. She knew she was a coward. Who was to say how things might have turned out with Ichigo if she'd had the courage to confront him with her love? Perhaps all that had been needed, then, was for one of them to be strong enough to step forward first. And who was to know how things might turn out if she were able to take that first step toward Byakuya, to frame his face in her hands and whisper "I love you" against his lips.

She had a sickening feeling that if she did that, he might respond in kind. And then she would never be able to pull away from him; her resolve was sorely tested as it was, just as it was now, without him helping to test it further by being sexy and gorgeous and funny and awkwardly sweet. And then he would be deposed as Kuchiki head, and feel terrible shame, and it would be all her fault. So, yes, she was a coward, but she was being a coward _for him_. That made it less selfish, right? Right?

Orihime shook her head back and forth, trying to clear her head of its conflicted, jumbled thoughts as she flash-stepped through the darkness, heading home after another long day. It had been nonstop healing for her, without time even to grab a bite of lunch. Hunger grumbled in her belly, and a headache throbbed behind her eyes.

She was tired, but maybe she had it in her to do a half-hour of sewing the Seaweed Ambassador. She was almost done, just a little bit more and it would be ready for presentation. Orihime wasn't entirely sure she should be giving it to him. Was it too forward? Inappropriate for her to give such a childish present to him? Maybe she should just keep it for herself, something to remember him by after the days and weeks and years passed... when she was lonely, and wanted to remember the strong, handsome captain who had made her shift from one impossible love to another...

Orihime closed her eyes against the tears that flooded them, then, and felt a wave of regret and fatigue crash over her. She managed to reach a rooftop before her faculties deserted her, stumbling to her knees before toppling to her side. She curled into a ball, thinking,_ I'll just rest here for a bit_, but her vision grayed at the edges before swiftly narrowing to a pinpoint. _Byakuya_, she thought. Eyes rolling back, she fainted.

* * *

Byakuya was starting to wonder if something had gone desperately wrong with the zabuton beneath his noble backside, because no matter how he sat or shifted, he could not get comfortable.

He was also starting to wonder if the kitchens had put ginseng or some other energizing ingredient in their dinner tonight, because instead of the slow progression toward relaxation and sleep that typically characterized his evenings, he was feeling excessively jittery, and was having trouble keeping from fidgeting. He kept wanting to tap his pen against the inkstone, or jostle his knee up and down. Abruptly, he realized he was in a foul mood, but could not place the reason for it.

The room was the beautifully appointed chamber in which they always reposed after eating and walking through the grounds; it was the perfect temperature, and furnished with the usually (but not tonight) comfortable zabutons he preferred when engaging in calligraphy, reading, or letter-writing. Across the low table before him, Rukia was reading manga while Renji, flat on his back, snoozed peacefully with his hands behind his head; sometimes she'd read Renji a part she found particularly exciting or funny, and he'd murmur appreciation before sinking back into his doze.

But the room felt bigger tonight, and emptier as well. In addition, he was bored.

"Nii-sama, is something wrong?" Rukia asked, her manga lowered to her lap as she gazed at him. Beside her, Renji raised himself up on his elbows to peer at his captain.

"Yeah, taichou, I haven't seen you frown like that in a long time."

"Frown?" Byakuya performed a swift self-inventory and realized his brow was deeply creased and his mouth turned down in a ferocious scowl. "Hn."

"And..." Rukia began, then stopped, her eyes dropping to where Byakuya had begun drumming his fingers on the table. "You're fidgeting."

Byakuya, with great effort, stilled the motion of his fingers. He couldn't do anything about the frown, however; his face was determined to scowl.

"Maybe he's constipated," commented Renji, tactful as ever. His grin said he wasn't terribly concerned. "Getting late, I'm gonna head home."

Rukia looked startled. "It _is _getting late, and Orihime-chan isn't home yet." She closed her manga and placed it to the side, her face troubled. "Should I be worried?"

Byakuya stared at her; as if with a click, his symptoms merged into a single cause: he was anxious that Orihime had not returned yet.

Since she had begun going to South Rukongai to work at the free clinic, she'd begun to return home at night later and later, even as she'd started leaving for the clinic earlier and earlier. When was she sleeping? When was she eating? Byakuya had not seen her for more than one dinner in the past week, and she had looked a bit tired and pale at the time. Her smile was not its usual sunny self, more a limp facsimile of it.

Now, several days later, with little sleep and erratic meals, she was likely fatigued, which would make her distracted and weaker than usual, and more likely to have trouble making her way home. What if, exhausted, she'd taken a wrong turn and gotten lost? Or, as a fledgling user of shunpou, had made a mistake and hit a wall and injured herself?

"I'm sure she's fine," said Renji, ruffling Rukia's hair. "She's a big girl, ne? She can take care of herself."

_He wouldn't be so nonchalant if it were Rukia who were out until almost midnight after working the whole day,_ Byakuya thought sourly. His fingers began drumming again.

"I guess so," said Rukia slowly, not entirely convinced.

"I want another walk around the grounds," Byakuya announced. His sister and Renji looked over at him, surprised, and he just felt so irritated that he couldn't stand another moment of it, so he flash-stepped from the room.

Outside, the air was cooler and fresher; with a deep breath, he decided to visit The Thicket. And once in The Thicket, he thought perhaps he could burn a little of this excess energy by a little flash-stepping around Seireitei. Then he thought Seireitei might be a bit boring, as he spent most of his time in it, so why not take a detour into Rukongai? South Rukongai in particular, as it had been a while since he had ventured in that direction.

And thus he went speeding at top volume in the direction of the free clinic. This was ridiculous behavior on Orihime's part, he decided, irresponsible and even dangerous. He would have a talk with her about being more prudent and taking better care of herself. She would make herself as ill as her patients if she persisted in neglecting herself to tend them.

He was concentrating so hard on Orihime that before he'd even hit the Tenth District he could feel her reiatsu. At first he thought she was much farther away, possibly out in the 60s or even 70s, until he realized that her reiatsu was so depeleted that she was closer but felt distant.

Byakuya tracked Orihime to the Twenty-Third District, where the moonlight bounced in high relief off a slight figure curled up, unmoving, on a slanted rooftop. His heart gave a hard, alarmed beat, and he pushed himself to even greater speed until he could blur to a stop at her side.

"Orihime-san," he said, kneeling on the uneven slate of the roof at her side. The moonlight made her look ghostly pale and gaunt, and Byakuya felt a spurt of anger that she'd let herself decline to this state. He reached out and gave her a none-too-gentle jostle on the shoulder. "Orihime."

She opened her eyes, seeming confused until she rolled her head to the side and saw him. "Byakuya-sama," she said, and smiled. "Why are you here?"

His heart gave another hard beat, but this time it was of relief and gladness. Relief she was safe, and pleasure because she was happy to see him. Rukia had been the only person who had ever reacted with joy to learn of his presence... until Orihime. Even in her tired state, even though he was a cold, arrogant bastard, she was always happy to see him.

"I came for you," he said. It was all he could think to say.

Orihime smiled wider. "I'm glad," she whispered. "I overdid it a bit, and thought I'd just lay down here to rest a little... but then I realized I couldn't get up again, and I hoped you would come for me." She blinked, seeming to think she'd been too familiar. "Or Rukia-chan, or maybe Renji-kun."

"Hn," he replied, not feeling too happy to be lumped in with them.

"You're always saving me, Byakuya-sama," Orihime said, sounding sad. "First when I died, and now again. I'm sorry about that. I hope you know I don't get myself in these pickles on purpose, because I don't. And I hate knowing that I'm inconveniencing and annoying you-"

"You're not," he interrupted, even as he wondered at how, even tired as she was, she could ramble like that.

"I'm not? You're sure?" Orihime peered up at him, studying his face, trying to discern any falsehood. "Don't fib just to make me feel better, Byakuya-sama."

His eyebrows flicked skyward. "I can honestly state that I have never even considered 'fibbing' to make you feel better."

Orihime relaxed back again and closed her eyes, laughing. "I believe you completely." Then she squawked in alarm as Byakuya slid his arms under her shoulders and knees and stood, lifting her up. "Byakuya-sama, this isn't nece-" She squawked again as he flash-stepped into a smooth rhythm that would bring them home.

"Be silent," he said, wishing he had a hand free with which to rub his ear, certain she had deafened him with that squawk.

"But I can flash-step-" she protested, consciously lowering her volume.

"You have pushed yourself beyond your endurance already. Any more and you will become ill."

Orihime stared up at him; there was a set to his jaw that spoke of determination.

"Are you sure?" she persisted in a small voice. She hated the idea of being a bother to him.

He glanced down at her then, in pure exasperation. Orihime hid her face against his shoulder and fought the urge to giggle.

"Okay, okay!" she said, giving in, and snuggled closer against him, seeking the warmth of his body because at the speed they were travelling, the air edged past "cool" into "downright chilly".

He smelled extremely good, and the fine cotton of his kosode was soft against her cheek. She felt his arms tighten around her, and she couldn't repress a smile (which she hid against his lapel). She was warm and safe, safer than she'd ever been in her life, maybe, and also tired, so if she let her eyes close, that was alright, wasn't it?

Byakuya knew the moment she had fallen asleep, could feel the deep and regular breaths she took. He held her closer, until she was flush against him, until he could feel her breath against his throat and her heart beat against his own chest, and knew he was lost.

This, then, was the culmination of the journey he had begun to take the moment she had arrived in Soul Society after her death. the first step had been finding her amusing; then the realization she was good company, and could enjoy discussion with her. Attraction had come, but attraction did not signify anything by itself. The evening Orihime had helped Kira, the things he'd learned about her, had been like a blow to the gut; that night, he had learned he could respect and admire her. And now, tonight, there was no more concealing from himself that he had missed her, in her absence, and worried about her safety. She was important to him; she _mattered _to him.

Yes, the journey was over, and the destination at which he had arrived had him feeling apprehensive even as something powerful struggled out from the rocks under which he had buried it.

Love.

It did not come easily to Kuchiki Byakuya; it had always been an entity for which he had had to struggle, and hard. Why, then, did it feel this time like the easiest thing in the world, like it was inevitable, like it would be harder to escape it than pursue it? He looked down at Orihime's sleeping face; most of it was pressed into his chest, but moonlight played over the angle of her temple, shadowing her eye while caressing the curve of her cheekbone and the dip in the center of her upper lip.

Yes, this had begun the moment he'd arrived in response to her summons when she'd died.

Unfortunately, it did not appear to him as if Orihime had taken the same journey in regards to him. She treated him with the same ditzy fondness she held for all her friends. And the last week she had behaved the direct opposite as one might expect from a woman falling in love. For all he knew, she was still in love with Kurosaki Ichigo, in spite of all her protestations that she had given up on the daft orange-haired man.

Once again, had he tumbled into love with a woman whose affections were already irrevocably engaged? First Hisana, whose guilt over abandoning Rukia proved a barrier keeping her from returning his love; and now Orihime and her devotion to a hero who could never love her back?

Byakuya was not blind to the irony.

Thus, feeling subdued and a bit heartsore, he arrived at his estate, shouldering open the shoji outside Orihime's bedroom and carrying her inside.

"Nii-sama," said Rukia, slipping into the room from the interior fusumi door. "You found her. I knew you would." She smiled gently at him- bless her, without any mockery at all- and helped him lay Orihime on her futon before reaching to remove her friend's shoes. "What happened?"

"She exhausted herself and could not continue, so fell asleep on a rooftop," he replied quietly. There were no roses in Orihime's cheeks, and she seemed small and drawn against the white sheets. It worried him. "She must not go again tomorrow; she must rest and eat well for several days, at least."

Rukia's gaze darted to him as she pulled the sheet and quilt up over Orihime, then lowered again. "Yes, Nii-sama," she agreed.

Byakuya felt a bit embarrassed, as if Rukia had correctly guessed his feelings, and averted his own gaze to look around the room. Something green was on the shelf; with a jolt, he recognized it as the Seaweed Ambassador of which he was fond. It appeared to be a doll of some sort, and still in a half-finished state. Why would she make such a thing? Was she making it for him? Who else could it be for? Who else would appreciate it but he?

He drew in a single, hard breath, hands clenching around folds of his hakama to keep from going to Orihime, from taking her up in his arms. He received priceless, thoughtless gifts on a daily basis from those in his own as well as other clans, all in the name of ingratiating the giver to Byakuya, so he would become more inclined to grant them his favor.

But she was making this doll, for him, with her own hands, and he knew she did it for no reason other than because he would like it and she wanted to make him happy. Love beat like wings within his chest, burning and agonizing and joyful and-

"Oh, no, Nii-sama, did you see it?" Rukia rose from Orihime's bedside and crossed quickly to the doll, opening a nearby drawer and sweeping it within. "Pretend you didn't see it, okay, Nii-sama? I know she wants it to be a surprise for you."

"I will be just as surprised when she gives it to me as I am at this moment," he murmured, and Rukia gave a low laugh, thinking he was making another dry joke. In truth, he knew he would be just as amazed at Orihime's gift when he received it as he was upon learning she was making it for him now.

"There," said Rukia, pressing a button on a bright pink thing... a clock, perhaps? "I turned off her alarm. She had it set for dawn, can you imagine? But now she'll sleep in. I'll stay home tomorrow to make sure she rests."

Byakuya studied his sister a moment; in the dim light, she looked so small and young and he wanted to protect her, no matter that he knew first-hand how resilient and determined she was. "You are a good friend," he told her.

Her eyes flew up to him, and her cheeks colored in pleasure. "N- Nii-sama!" she exclaimed, though quietly, so as to not disturb the sleeping Orihime. "Thank you!"

They left the room, moving down the hallway to their own respective chambers. Before they parted ways, Rukia paused, touching his sleeve for the briefest second. "You are a good friend, too, Nii-sama," she said, and disappeared into her room.

Byakuya went into his room, not really seeing any of the familiar surroundings as he stripped off his clothing and donned a sleeping yukata. He stretched out on his futon, dropped his head to the pillow, and recalled how it had felt to hold Orihime while she slept in his arms. He imagined what it might be like to have her here with him, now, to hold her against his body while they drifted to sleep. He could almost feel the weight of her head on his shoulder again, could picture the spill of her chestnut hair across his chest and twined around his fingers...

"Orihime," he whispered into the darkness. It felt good to say her name aloud.

Perhaps, one day, she would be there to answer him.


End file.
